The Price to Leave
by DallaLuna
Summary: //INDEFINITE HIATUS\\ Why DOES Rosalie leave? Prince Jerrold, son of Ella and Char, is in love with her, she's finally got an edge on her devious uncle, and even the shrewish Calantha is almost tolerable. But when things can't possibly get better...
1. Default Chapter

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Introduction

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"How do you say 'hello' in Elfian?" I looked at the blank faces of my students. We were in the large library of their father's estate. The children were seated on a couch, as I stood before them, quizzing them on their linguistic skills.

I shook my head, a little dismayed. "How about in Abdegi?" I furrowed my brow at the silence that followed my question.

"Do you know how to say hello in any language?" I asked finally, exasperated.

Tanya raised her hand. "Yes, in Kyrrian. It's '_hello'._"

I rolled my eyes and set down my book. "Very funny, Tanya. We've been at languages for almost a month, and you still haven't picked up a bit. I suppose we'll just have to study more."

Seven-year-old Lily raised her hand shyly. "I have picked up some! I know that 'Abensa utyu anja ubensu,' means 'pleased to meet you' in Ayorthian, and that, 'Vib ol pess waldo,' means 'stay in the shade' in Elfian. I just forgot 'hello' in both languages."

"And there's no use even trying Abdegi, 'cause the language is just screeches and whistles and who knows what," Marcus added. "I'm pretty good at Ogrese, though. PsuSSahbuSS," he hissed at Lily, who leaned towards Tanya, frightened by her older brother.

"That's good, Marcus. _Very_ good, Lily," I said, before wearily turning to the eldest of the children, "You're the oldest Tanya, so I'm sure you must remember _something. _From _any_ language."

I saw her mouth about to move and I quickly added, "_Except_ Kyrrian."

Tanya scowled. "I… I'm pretty sure 'inouxi' means 'speak' in Ayorthian, right?" She looked down at her hands, and by the way she was blushing I knew she was ashamed that her younger siblings knew more than she. "Who cares about this anyways? I'm bored, Rosalie, let's do something else." She tossed her light brown curls behind her shoulder and set her pretty face into a scowl.

"I'm your governess and tutor. Your father entrusted your education to me. I intend to follow the instructions given to me and continue to teach you despite your…"

"Tell us a story!" Lily exclaimed rather randomly, and right in the middle of my speech.

"A story?" I arched an eyebrow. "All the stories I know are from books. I'm sure I could find some for you…"

"No," Lily protested, "A story, like a fairy tale. Or a story about you!"

"I'm sure anything is better than languages," Tanya said in agreement, "Even if it's just going to be about her life as a servant."

I glared at her. "I was never a _servant_. I'm the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Frell, thank you very much."

"Really?" Marcus asked, a little amazed. "How come you came here looking like some peasant?"

I turned away from them, trying to hide the sadness in my eyes. I really wasn't up for telling my_ story. _Softly, I asked them, "How about Snow White? It's got adventure, romance, and attempted murder for you, Marcus." I plucked the book from the shelf and set it in my lap as I resumed my seat on the armchair.

"What are you doing? We want to hear your story," Tanya said impatiently. I looked up and saw them all eagerly looking at me. I sighed in defeat.

"Fine," I said, "But it's not really exciting."

"Anything is better than languages," repeated Tanya, "Besides you can't just tell us you're a Duchess and then leave it there!"

"I'm not a Duchess anymore, and I really never was," I explained as I set the storybook aside, "Mother and Father were Duke and Duchess of Frell. My father was killed on an Ogre expedition with King Charmont. My mother never remarried, but my uncle moved in to run our property. My mother eventually fell ill and died…" I paused staring at my hands. Anger washed over me in remembrance of my vile uncle.

"Then my louse of an uncle made my life an endless torture. So I ran away and became your governess. The end," I said hurriedly, "Now isn't that a lovely story? I think we should start back up with Kyrrian History, don't…"

"You have to _really _tell us the story, Rosalie! I mean, not rushed!" Lily crossed her arms over her chest indignantly.

"Fine. I'm just warning you my 'fairy tale' doesn't have a happy ending." I looked to the crackling fire. "I'm not sure if my story has even ended yet."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! You can go all deep and brood on us later. Right now, you have a story to tell!"

I laughed at his frankness. "Okay, I'll go 'all deep on you later'. Well, I guess I should begin when my mother died…"


	2. Death and Reminiscing

CHAPTER I

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**DEATH and REMINISCING**

**-**

**(TWO YEARS IN THE PAST)**

**-**

I held onto my mother's hand, stroking her sweaty forehead.

"Love… her… treat… her… Edward… treat… her… as… you… would… your… own."

"Of course, dear sister-in-law," my uncle Edward replied, putting a hand on my shoulder, "I will treat her like I would treat my own children; if I had any."

"Mother, please…." I grabbed her thin, almost translucent hand and rubbed it gently with my thumbs.

"Rosalie… don't… I… dear… I… love… you… so… much."

"Mother, we have to try harder! Getting some crackpot old fool of a doctor from the village is _not_ trying. I'm sure if I could just call on Jerrold, he would certainly lend us the royal doctor! Please… we have to try!" I met my uncle's steel gray eyes and could not hold onto his gaze for long without looking down.

"We did try, Rosalie, dear. It's her time. We must respect that." Uncle Edward said, and I couldn't help but notice the brutal edge it had, "And that's final."

"Mother, you **can't** leave me," I said desperately, "Try harder; fight it! Just a little harder…"

"I… I… did… try… my… hardest." Mother had tears in her eyes. "I… just… I… miss… him… so… much… Don't… please… don't… hate… me."

"I couldn't if I tried, Mother," I replied, "But if you want to see father so much, then go ahead. _Die_. Leave me here."

"I…don't…want…to…I'm… sorry." She closed her beautiful green eyes. "I… wanted… so… much… to… see… you… when… you're… a… woman… You'll… make…. me… proud… so… proud."

I shook my head. "If you just try, you could! You can see me as a woman! It could be like the old days. Oh, mother! I'm sorry if I was bad! I never meant anything. When I ran away to see the ogres, or when I went to the palace and slid down the banisters with the prince when you told me to stay home. I'll be so good now. I'll do anything! Anything…"

Mother began to cry, her thin frame shaking. "I… don't… want… to… leave… you… darling!"

I hugged her, feeling awful about what I must have put her through. She probably felt it was her fault she was dying.

"Mother, I love you. It's not your fault. Just rest and don't worry. No matter what happens, someday I'll see you again."

"I'll… watch… over… you… always." I brushed her tawny locks away from her terrifyingly pale face, which was beginning to look peaceful.

"Just sleep, Mother, just sleep." I held back tears. Deep inside, no matter how hard I tried to hide it, I knew that when she fell asleep, she'd never wake up again.

"I… I'll… just… sleep… just… sleep…" she murmured in the gentle voice I'd heard so many times before. She closed her eyes, and smiled. "Rosalie…" Her hand went limp.

I stared at her stupidly. "Uncle Edward… she's dead, isn't she?"

"She has been graced by mercy, dear girl. She is out of her misery." He spoke of her as if she were an animal that had been hit by a carriage. I watched him spin around in his regal manner, heading for the door. I just stood over her bed dumbly staring at her lifeless body.

"They said the fever would break… I thought it would… Mother, I let you down," I soliloquized, clenching my teeth. "You trusted me to take care of you. All I could do was get some herbs from a phony miracle worker. I've… It's my fault. It's my punishment for not trying. I lost you… Why?"

I turned and pushed blindly past a servant, my vision blurred by tears. It wasn't fair. Mother was gone, father was gone; I was persuaded everyone I had ever grown to love was going to die. I could remember clearly when we heard news of my father's death. I was only six. Mother and I had been working on embroidery when our oldest and most faithful servant, Tatiana, burst in, tears in her eyes. It was then she told us. Mother was the worst I had ever seen her in my life. The strong woman who always waited patiently for her husband's return, who, upon his return, never blamed him for being months late; the woman who tended to everyone else before herself, who humbled herself to conversing with the peasants; my solitary pillar of strength, broke down into tears. I swear, for at least a week, she never left her chambers. I had never felt that awful before in my life. I had never known my father, or known him _well,_ at least. But he _was_ my father.

I felt ten times worse at the moment Mother died. I had no confidante that I could tell absolutely _everything_ to. I still had Jerrold; but that was different. He wasn't there _all_ the time, nor could he be (not that I expected that of him). I couldn't tell Tata (Tatiana's nickname) about _anything_. If I ever did anything remotely improper she would simply scold me for not upholding the duty to which I was born. And whom could I tell of my favorite books? I could tell Jerrold, but he wouldn't talk over the plot with me the way my mother did. The thought never even crossed my mind for Uncle Edward to be my new confidante. He was too stern.

I ran onto the terrace swiping at tears with balled fists. I sank to my knees. She was gone. She was _really_ gone.

----

Two days later was the day of the funeral. It was down-pouring harder than it had since the flood season three or four years back. I was actually happy it was raining. It matched my mood rather well. I could hear Uncle Edward rapping on my chamber door, but I ignored it. He had been at it half the morning, insisting I greet the guests with him. I could really have cared less about the guests. I didn't know half of them. I'm pretty sure my mother hadn't even known half of them. Uncle Edward had turned the funeral into a big social event.

I kept a steady gaze on the rain that dripped down my window. I hugged my knees to my chest and continued staring. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Why did it have to be mother? Not that I would wish it on anyone else. So I suppose I was really asking why death happened at all. So others could live? So the world didn't get too crowded? All the answers seemed stupid to me.

"Rosalie, you get out here this instant!" Tatiana screamed from the other side of the door. "The funeral starts soon, and the whole royal family is here. Why, if your mother could only see how you're disgracing the family, I'm sure she'd be turning in her coffin…"

"Well, Tata, she can't, can she? She's dead, and it's my fault. Now leave me alone. I **don't-want-to-go**!" I replied enunciating each syllable loudly.

"ROSALIE…"

"Let her be," Uncle Edward's voice could be heard saying, "We'll tell the guests she fell ill."

I could picture Tata getting all red in the face at my uncle's comment, and my mind's eye could see her as she responded hesitantly, "Fine, I'll let her disgrace her family name, the reputation her parents and grandparents and great-grandparents…"

I crossed my arms indignantly and looked to my mourning gown, which was laid out on a chair near the window. I had never worn it before for there was little need of a mourning gown in everyday life. I glared at it.

"Stupid gown… you know, mother wouldn't have cared if I went to her funeral? She wouldn't have wanted all these people and stupid High Chancellor Thomas to blab on for hours about the afterlife and not about her." It felt good to take out my frustrations on the frilly mourning gown. "And she wouldn't have wanted Tata and Uncle Edward to force me to go either! She would've let me stay in my room. Stupid dress… I wouldn't even have to look at you if Mother hadn't died." I was beginning to question my own sanity, but continued on.

"I hope you enjoy laying in a muddy puddle under my window!" I pushed open the window and threw it out. "Good riddance!"

"I didn't know you bombarded visitors with dresses! I would've stayed at the funeral!" A familiar voice called.

I spun and leaned out the window. "Jerrold?"

He was standing there, my black gown over his shoulder, smiling that wonderful smile of his. His light brown hair was wet and his green eyes were shining.

"You're surprised to see me?"

I blushed. I really, _really_ hoped he hadn't heard me talking to my dress. "Yes… I mean, not that I didn't want to see you or anything! Did you just arrive?"

"No, we've been here a while," he called back up, "Mother was real worried about you. And Father feels awful. You know, after your father died on that Ogre expedition… and now your mother, too! He feels awfully guilty."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You really know what to say to cheer someone up." I turned away from the window, angry with him.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and saw as he bit his lip, the rain streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, Rosalie; I didn't mean it _that_ way. Say, are you going to the funeral?"

"No," I called down, a little bit frustrated. "To tell you the truth I really don't want to go listen to High Chancellor Thomas II drone about the afterlife and not at all about my mother."

"Well, since you aren't going, I thought you and I could go to the old palace. We haven't gone there in forever! To cheer you up, I mean. Not as any disrespect to your mother…" He was smiling, despite his very wet condition and his attempts to remain somber.

"_Fine_," I replied, trying to sound as if I really didn't want to go (which I did), "Let me get ready. I'll climb down the side of the house. They'll make me go if they catch me walking through the house."

I searched my room for a dress to wear and felt a smile appear on my face for the first time since my mother's death. Jerrold was right; a trip to the old palace would do me some good. We had used to go every day after our lessons with Master Eldridge, who tutored us both in all our subjects. We would explore, slide down the banisters; do anything that children and adolescents did with their spare time. But, at age 14 for me, and 15 for him (which was two years before Mother's death), Master Eldridge retired and we continued our educations separately, but still remained best friends.

I found my blue gown and pulled it over my head. It was an everyday gown, and my favorite because it matched my eyes. I grabbed my mousy brown cloak and leaned out the window.

"If I fall while climbing, you'll catch me, won't you Jerrold?" I asked nervously.

He scratched the back of his neck uneasily. "It depends on how far up you are…"

"Jerrold!"

"Umm, kidding… I guess. Just try not to fall, okay?"

I laughed. "No, I'm going to _try_ to fall."

"I swear to you, a girl just might," he said haughtily, "They all want to play damsel in distress. You know I can't be knight in shining armor for _every_ girl in Kyrria!" He shook his head, musing at his own popularity.

I rolled my eyes. "Get over yourself, Jerrold. I'm going to make sure I don't fall just so I can prove I definitely _am not_ a damsel in distress. Especially not to _you._" I kicked my leg over the sill of the window and the other followed, and I slowly made my way down the wall, grabbing onto the trellis as I climbed shakily down.

"I'm impressed," Jerrold said, smiling as he helped me down the last few feet, "I suppose I never should have doubted your status as an independent damsel."

I laughed. "You're right. Now we better hurry. You're going to catch cold and I swear if you fall ill I'll never talk to you again."

He sighed. "Fine, I'll get a cloak from our carriage. Or better yet, we could ride in it! What do you say to that?"

"That sounds nice," I said, taking the arm he offered to me.

He looked at my dress that was still perched on his shoulder. "I'm not even going to ask," he said before brushing it off. I suppressed a laugh, and we made our way to his carriage.

****

I looked around the old palace, hugging my cloak tighter around me. I wasn't sure whether it was the cold or all the buried memories that were sending chills down my spine. I hadn't been here for years. Everything was still as I remembered, though.

"It's all the same," I ruminated to Jerrold, "I'm sure I can come here when I'm an old woman and it all will be as it was when we were children. I suppose that's a good thing. It's like… like an eternal fountain of youth!"

Jerrold looked around as well as we climbed up the large staircase.

"I don't feel any younger," he joked.

"No? Being here doesn't seem to bring back all the memories of childhood, the mischief, the adventures; none of it?"

Jerrold smiled. "I was kidding. Of course it does. Like how angry Master Eldridge was we skipped lessons that one time… I can't remember when…"

"When I was ten and you were eleven," I supplied, "In November, I think." I surveyed the view of the old palace from the top of the stairs.

"Yes it was wasn't it?" He ran his fingers along the banister, the same roguish glint in his eyes as when we were kids. "Do you remember what we did?"

"Of course! We came here and… _Jerrold_! You're not serious, are you?" He nodded and kicked a leg over the banister.

"I'm going down… I'll wait for you at the bottom." He slid down the handrail.

"You're kidding me!" I called after, him laughing at his childish behavior. He flew off the end of the banister and right onto his bottom, but he was smiling nonetheless.

"Of course not," he yelled in reply, as he dusted himself off, "You're not afraid, _are you_?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not, Jerrold, I'm just older now and sliding down banisters is…" I stopped myself. I was beginning to sound like Tata. The thought horrified me.

"Childish?" His tone was disappointed as he stood expectantly at the bottom of the stairs.

"Fine, I'm coming," I said quickly. Repeating what Jerrold had done, I kicked my leg over and allowed myself to slide down. I had been crazy to deny it. The feeling of whizzing down the railing was a wonderful one. I flew off the end and right into Jerrold's arms. We were both laughing hysterically for at least five minutes. (Don't ask me why, you had to be there)

"Tell me that wasn't fun," he insisted after our little fit of hilarity.

"I suppose so…. And I guess, if you _really_ want to, we could go down again…"

"Good, I'll race you to the top." He bounded up the steps, and despite my better judgment (and Tata's nagging voice that had over the years become my conscience) I chased after him.

Breathlessly, we reached the top.

"You… first…" he laughed, gasping for breath.

"You want me to go first? And catch _you_?" I laughed, "Last time we tried that we both fell down!"

"Yes, I do remember that," Jerrold recalled a grin spreading on his freckled face.

"How my mother laughed when…" I stopped there and stared at my feet.

Jerrold put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry if I tried to force you to forget… I didn't mean to. I thought getting your mind off it would help…"

I shook my head. Nothing would come out of my mouth, so I kept shaking my head.

"You can cry; I wouldn't think any less of you, you know," he said, standing a little awkwardly with his hands behind his back.

I nodded and struggled to find my voice. "I've cried a lot… too much, in fact. For two days straight. I just want to forget, okay? I'll go first, but if I drop you, don't say I didn't tell you so!" I forced a smile.

He made a lopsided attempt at a smile and nodded.

I kicked my leg over and yelled as I slid, "Meet you at the bottom!"


	3. Waldor and Written Wisdoms

CHAPTER 2

****

**WALDOR AND WRITTEN WISDOMS **

****

"You went to the old palace and slid down the banisters? _ARE YOU KIDDING ME_?"

I lowered my eyes and fidgeted a little bit in my chair. "No Tata, I really did."

"You deserted your _mother's_ _funeral _to slide down banisters like a child?" Uncle Edward asked, tilting my face up to his, "Tell me, did you have a good time?" His voice was dripping with irony.

I was too ashamed to say anything back. I simply knocked his hand away and lowered my eyes.

"Well, did you?"

I wasn't going to let Uncle Edward see me cry. I kept a stiff upper lip long enough to say, "I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking… I guess. I don't know. I thought maybe it would hurt less if I shook it off and pretended nothing was wrong. I thought having some fun would do me some good."

Tata's expression softened a bit, but Uncle Edward still had a stony expression.

"Dearest, I understand it hurts, but that doesn't give you the right to gallivant around town." She patted my arm with her plump hand.

"It certainly doesn't mean that you can neglect visitors of such caliber as the royal family!"

I bit my lip and forced a half-hearted smile. "I didn't neglect Jerrold, at least."

Uncle Edward did not find it amusing.

"You, young lady, are restricted to your chambers until further notice," he said, sternly. "Do you understand that?"

I was too depressed to snap a clever retort at him. I just nodded sadly.

"Good." His gray eyes narrowed at me. "I'm off to do some business."

I watched him leave the hall, then sadly turned my gaze to Tata.

"I feel awful," I confessed more to my lap than to her, "I mean, yesterday I thought going to the funeral was a waste of time. But now that it's over, I don't have a chance to say goodbye. I didn't have a chance because I was being too stupid and childish to recognize how important her funeral was. It was my last and only chance to see her before they buried her." I sniffled and wiped my nose with my forearm (and to my surprise, Tata didn't scold me). "Tata, did she look beautiful? Was she peaceful?"

She smiled sadly. "Why, she looked just like a painting, she did. We dressed her in that favorite burgundy dress of hers and she was lovely. She looked so very peaceful… Why your mother was such a beauty! I'll miss that face of hers… my, it's such a shame you look nothing like her. Not that you aren't a sight for sore eyes, Mistress. I swear I can see your father every time I look at you."

I met her warm brown eyes for a moment, and then looked down quickly, trying to hide my tears. She hugged me to her chest and stroked my raven black hair. I wanted very much not to cry, but it was no use.

"Tata I miss her so much! It's not fair; it's not! I'll never have anyone like her again! She was the most perfect mother there ever was!" I sobbed loudly.

"Shhh, Rosalie, don't cry dearest."

I wished for just a moment that I could see her face break into a soft smile or hear her voice as she read to me from a book. I would be willing to pay any price just for a second of such a blessing. My vision was blurred by tears. I buried my face in Tata's shoulder.

It seemed that we sat like that for hours, just seeking comfort in each other. Despite her masked emotions, I knew Tata was just as sad as I. My mother was born when Tata was 23 years old, and she had pretty much overseen my mother's upbringing due to my grandmother's death in childbirth.

I wiped my eyes. They itched from my incessant dabbing and pawing at them. I leaned against Tata's shoulder and whimpered.

"You feel better now that you've had a good cry?" Tata asked finally, bestowing me with a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

I felt worse. A _lot_ worse. Not only were my eyes puffy and itchy, but also the pain of losing my mother didn't seem to leave my head.

"Yes," I lied, not wanting to seem as if I were complaining (though I sorely wanted to start right back up crying again).

"Good, then up to your room with you," Tata ordered sternly, all the gentle understanding gone from her demeanor.

"What?!" It was more of a whine than a surprised gasp.

"Goodness child! You heard your uncle, didn't you?" She 'tsk'-ed with her tongue at my supposed poor memory.

"I didn't forget! I just thought…" I wasn't sure what I thought. I narrowed my eyes at Tata. "You're on his side aren't you?"

"Dear, I'm not on 'his side'! But my mother raised me well enough to follow the orders of a man over the wishes of a young lady. She'd be tossing in her grave if she could see me disobeying my master's wishes! Now up to your room with you! I'll find that embroidery of yours… wherever you misplaced it, and you can work on it."

I grudgingly got up. "You use that stupid 'tossing in her grave' phrase too often," I muttered angrily.

Tata rolled her eyes. "Up, up, up." She swatted at me with her hand.

"Fine," I surrendered, "Lock me in my room. This isn't the last you'll hear from me!" I was kidding, but Tata remained stern.

"Go."

----

I descended the stairs three incredibly long days later, my stomach grumbling from not eating anything except a couple of rolls that Tata had smuggled me over the previous days. I had spent most of my time thinking about Mother until I came up with the conclusion that she certainly wouldn't want me to spend my days crying myself ill. I decided that one cry a day, at the most, was all I was going to allow myself to do. If Mother really _was_ watching over me as she had promised, she certainly wouldn't be happy to see me so depressed.

I was proud of myself in this resolution, thinking that I was being especially strong in making such a difficult vow. Especially knowing the fact that never again would I see her beautiful face ever again… I swallowed hard. I was provoking myself. I took a deep breath and entered the dining room.

"Good morning," I said, casually taking a seat right of Uncle Edward. "How was your business on Monday? I assume that all went well." I was half hoping he'd forgot about my punishment and that we'd be on good terms.

He had been wiping his mouth with a napkin, but he set it down on the table, eyeing me with distaste.

"What are you doing out of your room? I thought my orders were clear. _Do not leave your chambers until further notice. _I do recall saying that." He ran a hand through his shoulder-length dark brown hair, his stony eyes boring into me.

"Yes, I did hear you, but I'm starving," I complained, "I haven't eaten anything decent for _three days_!"

"If you had called upon a servant to ask me for a meal, I most likely would have sent up something this morning, but due to you deliberate insubordination, you'll go today without breakfast."

I gaped at him, extremely appalled with his decision. "That's not fair!"

"I suppose you don't want lunch either, then." Before I could retort, he added, "Good, then you shall miss that as well."

I was fuming. I furrowed my brow angrily and sent him a glare.

"You aren't hungry for dinner either? Don't let me prevent you from skipping your dinner."

He stood up, dusting the crumbs off his lap. I watched pathetically as they dropped to the floor. My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled. Even a crumb… I shook off my hunger and met his eyes once more.

"I never even said anything! If it's an apology you want then _here_. I apologized before, and I'll do it again. **_I-AM-SORRY_**," I sent him a daggers with my eyes, and repeated his words, "I do recall saying that."

" 'Sorry' won't bring your mother back, will it?"

I didn't have to have him re-establish that. I gawked at him for a moment, before breaking out into an angry rant. "Are you saying her death is _my _fault? _My fault_? _You're_ the one who wouldn't call upon King Charmont and Queen Ella for their Royal Doctor! _You're_ the one who let her suffer her fever for five days without calling upon a doctor; any doctor at all! And now it's _my_ fault?"

I was shaking with anger. Uncle Edward had never been the ideal person to live with; always too uptight and stern. But now with Mother gone, there was no one to keep him in check. It was just he and I, _and_ his boundless anger.

"To your room, _NOW,_" he instructed austerely.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"Why would you think that?" His tone was contemptuous and scornful.

"It's because my father always was better than you, isn't it? He became the Duke of Frell. He was honored for his bravery on Ogre Expeditions. And he's your _younger_ brother. You hate him because he outdid you in every aspect of life. He had a beautiful, wonderful wife and a family. And you never got that. Isn't that right? And you hate me because you hated him!" Tears were running down my cheeks. I can't honestly explain what I was crying over. My emotions were so mixed that I was having a difficult time clarifying exactly what they were.

My uncle's lifted to strike me, but Tata's voice interrupted our _lovely_ little situation.

"Excuse me, sir, but there's a man here to see you." Tata curtsied and looked at me, her eyes instructing me more effectively than her mouth could in such a situation. 'Keep that mouth of yours shut!' they seemed to read and I obeyed them instantly.

He grinned a grin full of malice. "Tell him to come in," he instructed, then turned to me, "You better get to know him; he'll be staying for a while."

My heart was throbbing at the thought of impending dooms. Had my uncle promised me to be married? I vowed I would enter into no such arrangement. I'd run away to the palace where Jerrold would persuade everyone that I was an Ayorthian servant who spoke no Kyrrian. Or perhaps I would dress as a boy, cut off all my hair, and become a troubadour. My songs would consist only of Elfian and Abdegi words, in the rare occurrence that despite the fact that I looked like a boy someone recognized my voice or me. After thinking it over for half a minute, I realized how paranoid I was being.

"Ah! Edward, how long it has been since we last met! Still as vivacious as before, I see." A tall, spindly man with a long beard and shoestring moustache entered the room.

I scoffed. _My_ uncle, vivacious? **_Please._**

"What's this? Is this the little girl you spoke of? My, the way you talked, it seemed she'd be just a mite of a girl. But here she is, all grown up. She'll be harder to deal with than I thought." He twirled his moustache and looked me up and down as if I were a horse he was appraising. I shivered, quite a bit perturbed by this act.

I wanted to slap him and curse him, but Tata's look kept me bound to silence.

"You're dismissed, Tatiana," my uncle said with a wave of his hand, and then turned his attentions to me. "This is Waldor, from Bast, whom I've known for some years. He will be the new overseer of _my_ estate. Now that it's mine, I intend to run it properly for what it's worth. Your father did a poor job running his properties. Why, with all these resources at hand, we could run a large plantation. I'll be rich in no time."

I wrinkled my brow. "But this is _my_ estate. Mother only hired you to look after it. It isn't yours; she didn't give it to you."

Both Waldor and Uncle Edward burst out in laughter.

"Isn't she adorable? Ahh… You actually thought that _you_ would run the estate when your mother died? That's rich, very rich indeed." He stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow. "You're only a child. You're sixteen years old, and if you aren't already incompetent enough, I highly doubt allowing you to run this holding would change anything. Besides, it said in the will you were to run the manor and its assets when you were of age. Two more years until you are eighteen, and I highly doubt that you'll _want_ to run the estate by the end of these two years, if you know what I mean."

I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. What could I say? Nothing, and I could do even less. I sighed in defeat. This was it; this was my new life. I was trapped in a house with two grown men; one who hated me, and the other whom found me amusing. And, by the way he was ogling at me, he obviously found me attractive too.

"I'm leaving now," I informed Uncle Edward, "I don't really care to be the victim of your slanders."

The two men exchanged looks of amusement, then started chuckling at me for a second time.

"She's a funny one, that's for sure!" Waldor chuckled, his bearded face twisted into what seemed a rather malicious smile.

They were still too busy laughing at me to recognize that I had slipped out of the room.

----

I bound up the stairs, stomping my feet loudly. How quickly all my luck had changed. Only three weeks before, I was a normal sixteen-year-old who was just as happy and satisfied as the next person. Now here I was, motherless and a prisoner in my own home. I cursed the fates for dealing me such an awful hand in life.

I stormed around the halls for a bit, trying to work out some sense of sanity in my mind. Was I going to do something about this predicament? I wasn't sure if I had the heart to fight anymore. Maybe I would just obey; rot in my room for the rest of time; my uncle would eventually have to die. If I did decide to fight back, how would I accomplish such a feat? Perhaps if it were only Uncle Edward, then, and I were _really, **really**_ lucky, then I might win. But with two men, it seemed completely hopeless. Even if I were to 'win', what exactly did 'winning' entail? I highly doubted that I could persuade my uncle and Waldor to leave me with the manor.

My mind, if not already enough of a jumbled mess, slipped back to my mother once again. I realized how completely and hopelessly alone I was without her. I wasn't sure whether I would be able to keep my resolution anymore. I continued to pace around the halls, switching between anger and sadness until I couldn't stand it anymore.

I suppose the reason I loved books so much was because they were an escape. Whenever I went to our library and made myself comfortable in the large leather chair with a stack of my favorite books by my side, it seemed trouble was non-existent. It was only my books and me; me and the endless world of adventures and romance, philosophy, science, arithmetic or any other subject I wanted to delve into.

So I did exactly that. I locked the library door and rummaged through the piles of books. They seemed to flood the room, occupying all the shelves and most of the ground. I had read hundreds of them already, but there still existed many that I had yet to find.

With a large pile of books in my lap (that I knew would take me months to finish), I started to read. I hadn't been as happy since my mother's death than when I was in the library, not even with Jerrold. I would choose him over a book any day, of course; but the memory of the banisters and the castle was marred by my guilt. Reading, on the other hand, was a pleasure unstained. It felt like Mother would have wished me to heal through the wisdoms of the written word.


	4. Competition and Problems

CHAPTER 3

*

**COMPETITION AND PROBLEMS**

*

I watched as Alleopes, my centaur, pranced gracefully around the royal pasture, smiling as I leaned against the tall oak.  It was a crisp autumn day, roughly a month since my uncle had first instituted my punishment.  Only that morning was I finally allowed to leave the house.

I had spent half the morning searching for Jerrold, who obviously had taken to hiding.  I wasn't very sure why, for his sister was very hazy on the details.  She had said something about the princess of Ayortha, but I couldn't be quite sure what she had meant.  What I did know for sure, however, was that Princess Calantha of Ayortha had come to spend a year at the Kyrrian court.  I did not know why, but I wagered it was because the Ayorthaian's wanted to come to the court of Kyrria for a change. 

Whatever the reason was, I spent as little energy as possible thinking about it.  I wanted to enjoy the outdoors; relish the beautiful shades of red, yellow, and orange the leaves of the trees were changing to and the clean, crisp air that filled my lungs.  That, and to watch my beautiful four-year-old centaur, Alleopes, as he galloped around the field.  I had received him as a gift on my twelfth birthday.  At the time, I hadn't really been particularly fond of centaurs, but after spending a few days with him, he became my treasure.  

Alleopes was perfect to talk to.  I could complain and carry on for hours, and he would listen patiently.  He would never tell me I was wrong, or that I should act a certain way (like a few people I could name did).  True, he did not understand a word I said, but he was still a beloved companion.  I would bring him a basket of apples, which were his favorite food, and what I named him after.  'Alleopes' is Elfian for 'apples'.  Not only were they his favorite food, but seeing as his father was named Apples, I had thought my self especially clever to name the son 'Apples'.

I yawned and stretched my arms, then reached for an apple from my basket.  I waved it in the air and Alleopes raced over.  Suddenly, however, he paused, kicking his hooves into the ground.

"Whoa, boy.  I swear… he hates me!  Alleopes is very protective of you."  I glanced up at Jerrold who shot me a quick smile.  "I think he gets jealous that he doesn't get all your attention."

I gave Alleopes a fond glance and gave him the apple I was holding.

"He doesn't have to worry, no you don't," I whispered in the sort of voice one talks to a baby with.  

"I daresay I'm extremely jealous," Jerrold joked, then eyed the apples in my basket.  "Give me an apple, will you?  I'm starved."

I cocked my head to the side and scrunched my nose.  "Sorry, these are for Alleopes."  

He pouted and I couldn't help but laugh.  I bent over to my basket and took an apple out.  I thrust it into his hands and shook my head at his behavior.  

"Here you go.  That's the only one you're getting.  Anyways, where were you?  I've been searching all over!"

Jerrold finished taking a bite and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"I should ask the same thing of you!  I've called upon your house countless times this month.  Your uncle said you were picking flowers.  Five days in a row, too!  I bought it the first day, but it was kind of hard to believe you'd actually need _that_ many flowers."

I laughed.  "If you consider 'picking flowers' sitting in your room idly, then yes I not only did I 'pick flowers' for those five days, I 'picked' them the whole month."

He furrowed his brow and took another bite out of his apple, making a loud crunch as he did.

"You were punished?  For wha… oh, no…  It wasn't because of the funeral, was it?  Oh, Rosalie, I'm so sorry.  I never meant…"

"Jerrold… please.  It's in the past; forgive and forget, as I always say," I said, then sent him a grin, "I've never said that before, to tell you the truth.  It sounded wise, though."

He laughed.  I smiled even wider.

"Well, it's only fair if I tell you why I've been in hiding.  Come closer.  No one else can hear this."  

"Jerrold, you're silly.  No one can hear us out here except Alleopes, and I doubt he'll tell anyone."  I pointed at Alleopes' blank eyes to prove my point.

"Fine, it's the princess… she's been-"

"Jerrold!  Yoo-hoo!  Where have you been?"  A petite woman decked in full ballroom apparel approached us, waving her arms profusely.

He attempted to hide his face, and I raised my eyebrows.

"That," he whispered, "is the reason I am in hiding."

The lady reached us, straightening her skirts.  "Jerrold, where on earth have you been?"  She gave me a scrutinizing look.  "And who, Jerrold, is this?"  Her pronounciation was very… unique.  It wasn't only her Ayorthaian accent, but she added trills to her r's and pronouncing her th's as z's.

"Rosalie, she's m--"

"You're not courting her," Princess Calantha asked, as she latched herself onto his arm, "are you, Jerrold, love?"

I smothered a laugh with the back of my hand.  This was hilarious!  No wonder Jerrold had been in hiding.

"No, we're best friends," I replied, giving her a candy-sweet smile.  "I'm Rosalie, as Jerrold said.  Daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Frell.  Utterly and totally…eh-hem… excuse me… where was I?  Oh yes, pleased to meet your acquaintance."  I curtsied, as was apt to do to royalty.

"Oh," she said, flippantly, "Jerrold promised me a tour of the palace today.  Perhaps we'll see you later."

I looked at him and held back more laughs.  He gave me a vehement look.  I shrugged.

"I suppose I should go.  I was planning on visiting my mother's grave today," I said, "And I should get Alleopes back to the royal menagerie.  I'll see you later."  

"No, don't!  I…eh.. was going to join her.  You wouldn't want to go… it's a long walk."  Jerrold looked to me for some help.

"Yes, a very long walk, through marshes," I added.

He sent me a thankful smile.  "And tall grass where Ogres are known to dwell."

I shrugged.  "It's actually not that bad, though.  You should join us."

Princess Calantha looked appalled.  "I'm afraid not!  "I've much more sophisticated things to do."  She pursed her lips.  "It's no wonder you are best friends.  I wonder whether _all_ the girls in Kyrria are so barbaric."

And with that, her majesty marched off the pasture.  Jerrold and I looked at each other. 

"Jer-r-royd, yove (love), zer-r-re you ar-r-re!" I imitated. "Seems Alleopes isn't the only one who doesn't like competition."

"She's a nightmare," Jerrold whined.

"I can relate," I replied.  Jerrold furrowed his brow.

"How so?"

I shrugged one shoulder.  "My uncle and I don't exactly get along that well.  It's sort of hard without my mother there to watch my back."

"I didn't know," he said apologetically.  

"I didn't want to complain," I murmured, "Besides, you seem to have enough problems on your hands."

"Well, it seems like we both have some important problems to deal with," Jerrold said, "Just know that I'm here if you need me."

"And vice-versa," I replied, giving him a smart rap on the arm, "Don't think you're the only one who can offer help."

"I never said I was.  Now give me another one of those apples.  They're good."  He kneeled next to my basket and took one out, biting into it with another loud crunch.

I smiled.  I didn't exactly feel like scolding him for taking an apple.  I felt oddly happy.  We spent the day sitting, talking, and laughing.  Jerrold told me all about the month; including lengthy descriptions of all the boring cotillions that were held at the palace and all the boring nobles who came to visit.  I told him very little, basically about the books I'd read in my confinement.  The conversation wasn't exactly on the most enthralling topics, yet somehow, it was still interesting.

*

**A/N:** Sorry it's taken so long to update!  I've been very busy this week.  I hope you enjoy the chapter!  I pretty much wrote it all today, so if it's "hot off the press" I apologize.  I also apologize in advance for the fact that I won't update this entire week.  I'm visiting family in New York.  So enjoy, read, review and have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

    
   
  


	5. Mistresses and Their Many Problems

CHAPTER 4

*

MISTRESSES AND THEIR MANY PROBLEMS 

*********

The days were getting yet colder, and the almanacs had predicted the first snow to fall around December 2nd.  Yet, when that day came, it turned out to be sunny and rather pleasant, for winter at least.  It was warm enough for Tata to hang the laundry to dry outside.  I was her self-appointed apprentice, clumsily trying to figure out what exactly servants did.  I had grown up in my sheltered and privileged world, where I never did an ounce of housework.  

            My uncle wasn't forcing me to do anything; it was actually quite the opposite.  I _wanted_ to do housework.  I wanted to avoid him at all costs.  I went _especially_ out of my way to avoid Waldor.  He scared me, a _lot_.  So, knowing that two selfish, lazy men like them would never do anything that they could hire somebody to do for them, I decided to hang around the servants.  

            Most of the older servants ignored me, but I became friends with a few of the maids and one of the groom's who worked in the stables.  I'm pretty sure Tata wanted to ignore me as well, but I followed her like a lost puppy.  I hate to brag, but I have to say I got pretty darn good at folding clothes.

            Tata would scold me that a ",proper young lady such as you should be _served_, not be _serving_."  I suppose one plus of doing housework was bugging her.  No harm, no foul…  

            I deeply wanted to tell Jerrold of my newfound skills, but that wasn't possible.  For the past month, he'd been on Ogre expeditions with his _own_ set of knights (he had made it perfectly clear to me that this time, unlike previous expeditions, his father was not going with him).  He was so excited about the whole thing that I hadn't wanted to damper his enthusiasm with my worries.  My own father had died on such an expedition, and every day (when I had time to think alone) I would fret over how he was doing.

            When I told Tata of my fears, she had insisted that I probably worried more than his mother, and then put on some foolish smile that meant who-knows-what.  I must admit that its sort of pathetic when you're sixteen years old and your sole-confidant (for the time being, at least) is a fifty-something year old woman.  And one that chastised me endlessly, too!  But it was true that I really did love Tata.  She was my picture of a grandmother.  I had never known my own, so I wasn't familiar with the warm loving kind that spoiled you incessantly.  From growing up with Tata, I imagined grandmothers being somewhat strict and endlessly criticizing, but lovable just the same.

            Anyways, on that December 2nd, I spent my time outside hang clothes and dancing foolishly under the sunlight.  I always loved the first snow, or even the first couple snows, but by the middle of winter I hated the coldness and the dreary gray that seemed to never leave.  Tata watched me, shaking her head at me but never scolding.  I finally grew dizzy from spinning and dropped onto the cool grass, my face flushed.

            "Rosalie, I swear, you act like you're a twelve year old girl," Tata admonished.

            I laughed.  "An eight year old girl.  By twelve all girls of nobility are fretting over their hair and worrying if they've mussed their dress."

            "All but you," she corrected, "When _you_ were twelve you were off riding horses with the prince.  Why, your mother and I mused on how the two of you were two peas in a pod."

            "You know the only reason I was off riding horses was because I'd just learned how.  Plus Jerrold made me because he was so excited I'd learned.  I miss that silly boy…  Anyways, I was terrified of them my whole life.  By thirteen, I was bored of riding horses.  Really, Tata, you must get your facts in order."

            "You'll drive me insane yet," Tata muttered. 

            "I want to help you," I said, reaching into the basket piled high with dresses and shirts, "Not to drive you insane, at least not right now.  With the clothes, I meant."

            "Two many cooks in a kitchen ruin a stew," she quoted, annoyed with my intrusion of her work.

            "We're not making stew, so that doesn't matter.  We're not cooks either.  Perhaps I should ask Olli (our cook) of his opinion on that statement."

            "It's an expression," she exclaimed, before she saw the smile on my face.  "You sly little thing!  You just love to torture me, don't you Mistress?"

            "It's not torture.  It's joking.  Living with my uncle is _torture_," I said solemnly.  "He goes out of his way to make me feel unwanted; out of his way to be cruel to me in any way possible."

            Tata clicked her tongue.  "Of course he does.  You're the only thing stopping him from owning this estate.  Why, the moment you turn eighteen, you can turn him out of this place.  Take heed, Rosalie, for he'll stop at nothing to get you to give this place to him.  He'll use anything you say to put you in trouble.  Why that will of your father's says that if you do not take ownership of this property at eighteen, it's all his.  I know because I was a witness at the signing of it.  You just have two more years; not even, until this place is all yours.  Won't that be worth everything?"

            I stared at her dumbly.  I had often wondered why he hated me so and I had even asked him to his face.  But I had never paid attention to that fact.  It not only explained his behavior but also made me feel like an idiot.  How could I not have known?  He had practically told me that was the reason a month or two ago.  

_"Two more years until you are eighteen, and I highly doubt that you'll want to run the estate by the end of these two years, if you know what I mean."_  It ran through my head.  It was blatantly apparent, and I felt awfully foolish for not discovering it myself.

"I know," I lied, pinning a dress onto the line. "It just bothers me so.  It's not exactly easy living in the same house as someone who'd do anything to turn you out.  I suppose I should learn to deal with it, shouldn't I?"

"It bothers me so, Mistress.  Your poor mother trusted your uncle to take care of you.  Just you watch, miss, bad things will happen to the man who betrays the dying wish of another.  Your parents were such lovely people; it'd kill them to see how he treats you.  Your father's own brother…  why your father was nothing but kind to him!  He lent him money when your uncle was in need, and when Edward failed to pay it back; it bothered him not a bit!  He was a wonderful man, your father was."

I always smiled to hear Tata speak of my parents that way.  It made me feel warm inside, like I knew that they still loved me, even from wherever they were.  I hoped that even with the limited time I had with them, that some of their gracious spirit rubbed off on me.

"Tatiana, inside _now_," a cold and familiar voice yelled, interrupting my moments of bliss.  I rolled my eyes and looked over my shoulder.  Uncle Edward looked mad.  _Very_ mad.

"What's the matter, beloved uncle?" I asked sarcastically.

"It is none of your… wait, perhaps it _is_ of your concern.  I'd like an audience with all the servants, and since you seem to like acting like a servant, you should come as well.  An item of personal importance to me has been taken, and I intend to find who stole it."  He headed towards the house once again and Tata and I exchanged looks.

"You probably misplaced it," I called after him, "Why must you blame the servants?  Waldor probably stole it.  He seems the type to do such a thing."

"Rosalie, I would have asked for your opinion if it was wanted," he replied, meeting my eyes straight on.  I was about the same height as him, for I had acquired my quite lofty height from my father.  

I brushed off his remark and followed him into the sitting room where all the servants were gathered.  I took a seat in the chair and observed the looks of complete annoyance on most of the servant's faces.  I would be annoyed, too.  My uncle complained of how they never completed their work, yet he was delaying it himself!  How he annoyed me…

"You're gathered here because one of you has stolen a gold dagger that I left on the table beside my bed.  I know not who or why, and to tell the truth, I do not care.  If you come forward now, I will simply fire you and have you return the dagger along with last month's pay.  If you've sold the dagger, you will have to compensate for it.  Am I perfectly clear?"

            The servants mumbled their 'yes sir's' and 'yes, master's' and I rolled my eyes.  How could he be that arrogant?  I wanted desperately to slap him.  There was no way on earth he could have known if he accidentally knocked it on the ground or if it fell under his bed!  And even if a servant had stolen it, what motive would they have now to give it back?  He certainly did not know how to be persuasive.

            "Are you done?  It seems that no one is stepping forward, Uncle Edward, so you can let them go back to their work now," I demurred.

            He ignored me.  Instead he went to Waldor who was standing nonchalantly by the door.

            "I'd like you to check who cleaned in my room on November 26th please.  Now you know why I asked you to keep record of who cleans where."

            Waldor nodded, smiling (which made him look even more evil than usual) and strutted off to retrieve his record book, or at least I assume.

            That was when Lynette, one of our chambermaids, grabbed onto my arm, her eyes wide with fear.  Lynette was a sweet girl, much sweeter than me, or any other girl I knew.  She never uttered a complaint or looked remotely down.  _Ever_.  She was oddly happy all the time.  Not that it bugged me.  Or it only bugged me a little.  How could you be that happy when you cleaned up after other people's filth?  She was one of the younger servants who I had become friends with.

            "Rosalie!  I'm going to lose my job!  I'm going to lose everything.  You must help… I don't know what to do!"  Her usually sweet voice was hoarse, and she clung to my arm nervously.

            "What, were you working in my uncle's room that day?"  I glanced at my uncle, who, to my luck was looking the other way.  If he'd saw us there was no doubt in my mind that he'd blame Lynette.

            "I stole it!  I had to.  I hope you're not angry with me!  It was to pay for something important.  You must understand.  I can't lose my job!  I really need the money or we shall lose the cottage…"

            I gaped at her for a moment, unsure of what to do.  Why was she coming to me?  Did she expect _me_ to take the blame?  I wanted to, because I thought I'd become friends with her.  Isn't that what a friend would do?  But _were_ we even friends?  I didn't know where she lived or how many brothers or sisters she had.  All I knew was that she was a kind and sweet, and not the kind to steal for nothing at all.

            Tata's words rang in my head.  _Take heed…_  That was the complete opposite of what I was about to do!  I was basically going to give him a reason to hate me more.  For some reason though, I knew that the second Waldor entered the room with his ledger, I was going to confess.  Stupid benevolence….

            "Don't worry, Lynette," I murmured back, "I've got it under control."

            "What are you going to do, Mistress?"

            I sighed.  "Just don't say a word, okay?  I've got it under control," I repeated, "I think."

            It was then Waldor re-entered the room.  I felt suddenly nervous and there was a lurching feeling in my stomach.  What was going to happen this time?  Would I be locked in my room for two months?  What if he put me in the stocks for a week?  Or _two_ weeks?  

That was foolish, for we didn't even have any stocks for me to be put into.  He was a clever man, I had to give him that much.  He would think of a way to punish me, much more cruel and unusual than last time.  I was having second thoughts about the whole thing.  I hated Lynette for being so sweet, and myself for considering her a friend in the first place.  Then again, even if she weren't my friend, I probably would have taken the blame anyways.

I broke away from my thoughts, and watched as Waldor flipped the book open and flipped through the pages.  Lynette grabbed my arm.  I didn't look at her.  I didn't want to.  I was waiting for the perfect moment.

'The perfect moment is now,' an inner voice nagged, 'You're just afraid.'  And I was.  I didn't want to be hated anymore.  I didn't want to be alone with my Uncle.  I wanted my mother to be alive.  I wanted to be loved again.  I was sick of everything.  It was no use to try anymore.  Why should I?  Why should I have tried to please him, when he would never be pleased?  He didn't matter anymore.  The war had begun.  Only time would tell the winner.  

"Don't bother," I found myself saying, my voice unwavering.  "I don't want you to blame anyone for this because the book says they were working in your room."

My uncle smiled.  "And why is that?  Have you a confession, Rosalie?"

"I stole it.  It wasn't stealing though.  I thought it belonged to my father.  That used to be _his_ room, you know.  So I took it and sold it and used the money."

"What did you need to steal for?" Waldor challenged, "You're a rich girl.  And what was so precious that you had to steal to buy it."

I bit my lip.  What would my uncle believe?  He knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't steal his dumb dagger to buy jewelry or some other luxury.  

"A book?" I replied softly, then repeated firmly, "A book.  I bought a few books.  And I gave the rest to beggars who really needed the money.  I have no money of my own because you're a greedy miser who keeps it all to himself."

I eased into my topic.  "And furthermore, if I had asked you, you would have denied me because you love to torture me.  You think you're going to win, but you're not."

"Win what?"  Uncle Edward was still smiling, and I felt hate surging through me.  

"This.  Everything.  You're not going to get it, so you shouldn't even try.  Just leave me alone, okay?"  I looked down at my feet.  Everyone was listening to this.  

"May we be excused, sir?" Tata asked.  "Now that we know who's done it?"  I met her eyes for a moment.  She shook her head at me, and I could almost hear her voice asking, "Now why did you do that?"  I wanted to explain everything to her right at that moment.  

"Yes, you're all excused.  Thank you, and I apologize that you had to bear witness to this.  My niece should have been more considerate."  His cold gray eyes bored into me and I shivered.  

Now _I_ was the evil one.  Cleanly done, Edward, cleanly done.  

The servants filed out, whispering to each other, most likely about what an ingrate I was.  Tata and Lynette knew that I hadn't done it, and that should have been enough.  I should have felt good about the whole thing, but somehow, I felt more guilty than good.

"You'll be duly punished in due time.  Until then, you're dismissed as well."

I furrowed my brow.  He was letting me go?  I understood the part about being "duly punished"; but that he just let me go surprised me.  I shrugged it off and finished helping Tata hang the laundry.  If I had only known what was going to happen, I wouldn't have been so nonchalant about the whole thing.

*

            "Mistress, wake up."  I stuck my head under a pillow and ignored her.

            "It's urgent miss.  You must awake _now._"

            I sat up groggily.  "What is so important that you have to wake me?  At such an early hour, too?"

            Tata looked at me anxiously.  "Put on your robe and come along.  I have a feeling you'll not be happy."

            I nodded and threw off my covers, pulling my robe on quickly.

            It had been two days since the incident with my uncle, and the punishment hadn't come yet.  I had a feeling that it had come, though.  I found out that Lynette had needed the money so that her father, who had broken his leg, was out of work and her mother needed help feeding the children.  Lynette had been the family's only source of income.  Whatever regrets I had, or was about to have, shouldn't have mattered.  I'd saved her family.  I felt like a heroine of some sorts.  

I figured Tata had woken me to show me my punishment.  I felt my stomach lurching ever so slightly.  What had _he_ done during my sleep?  

            Tata stopped suddenly at the library door, taking my hand into hers.  I raised an eyebrow at her and sent her a smile, but the somber look on her face erased it.  I was beginning to get a little frightened.

            "Rosalie, lady, you must remain strong."

            "Tata, you're scaring me.  What's wrong?"

            She turned the knob of the library door slowly, looking at me sadly.

            "Just open the door, please," I said sternly.

            "Mistress…."

            "Just open the door!"  I found my voice had risen.

            "Yes, lady."  Tata pushed it open.

            There was nothing.  Not nothing different, but _nothing at all_.  The books that had overflowed from the shelves and lined the floor were gone.  Not one remained.  I felt my knees give out.  I was numb.

            "Where are they… Tata, where are they?  Where are my books?"  

            "The men left with them this morning.  When I awoke this morning, the last of the men were leaving with boxes overflowing.  I tried to get them back for you, but… oh Mistress!  Please don't cry!"

            "Help me to my feet please," I requested in a monotone voice.

            She took my hand and tugged at my arm.  I rose to my feet uneasily.  "Now you know that this is because of that dagger episode.  I know for a fact that you didn't steal it, Mistress."

            "Stop calling me Mistress!  You make me sound like I'm a some sort of concubine or something."  I gave her a furious glare.

            Tata's eyes widened.  "I'm sorry, mi-lady.  I won't call you that again."

            I said nothing.  I knew I was being completely irrational.  But I had to blame something or someone and I didn't have the heart to seek out my uncle.

            "I know this is difficult for you, Mis--- I mean Lady.  I understand what those books meant to you, and that it hurts, but you must rise above this."

            I didn't reply again.  I ran my hand over the smooth shelves, trying to pretend that it was the spines of books I was feeling.  I closed my eyes and look down.

            "Don't tell me you understand, because no one does.  Did you lose your father when you were six?  I didn't think so.  Did you lose your mother only ten years later?  Were you an orphan at sixteen?  No, you weren't, I know that for a fact.  Were you forced to live with an awful uncle?  No.  So before you say 'I understand' you should think about it.  Because you don't understand, and I hate it when people say they understand when they have no idea about my feelings."

            "Oh, Rosalie… you mustn't be hateful.  You're such a sweet girl.  You're letting your anger get the best of you."  She reached for me and I backed away.

            "I don't want to be sweet!  I'm sick of being sweet!  I don't want to be kind or act polite to anyone.  Why, if the king were here right now I'd slap him right across the face just out of spite.  My books were all I had of them, Tata, and their gone now, and I hate everything.  I hate you, and I hate Lynette, and I hate Waldor.  And you know, I wish my uncle would just **_die_**!  Yes, I hate him that much!"  I finished my speech without breathing once.  I panted for a moment before breaking into sobs.  I fell to my knees once again.

            "Mist—oh, forget it!  Mistress does _not_ mean concubine, it means lady who has power.  And you must stop being spoiled.  I may not have been orphaned, but I was widowed when I was 21, before I had any children.  I've lived a far lonelier life than you.  My parents were considerably less kind than yours, and I was forced to move out and work when I was 15 years old.  I haven't seen them since then.  They probably died years ago.  I've worked long and hard, and met many hardships," she tilted my chin up to face her, and narrowed her eyes, "But never once have I blamed anyone, even if the blame was not mine.  What you did for Lynette was kind, but you should have expected the consequences.  And yes, I do know it was Lynette.  She told me the whole thing, and I'm very proud of your consideration, but you cannot act like such a child.  Now, I won't tolerate another unpleasant word from your mouth, Rosalie.  Get up, dust yourself off, and get on with life."

            I stared at her and brought myself to my feet.  Impatiently, I dried my tears and dusted off my dress.  

            "Is that good enough?" I asked, trying to, but unable to bring the spite back into my voice. 

            "Yes.  Now I'm off to do some housework.  I want you to… I don't know.  What exactly did you and your mother used to do?"

            I squinted back tears as I glanced at the empty shelves.  "We did lessons together…"

            "And?" Tata snapped.

            I shrugged a shoulder and struggled to find an answer.  "I-I don't know!  Maybe… who know?  Maybe we sewed?"

            "Yes, that sounds right.  I'll get your embroidery."  She turned to the door.

            "May I stay in here?" I inquired.  

            Tata turned back to me, her lips pursed.  "Yes, you may.  Just so long as not a single tear escapes your eye."

            "I promise," I vowed, then felt a smile reach the corners of my lips, "Hey, Tata?  Do you think my grandparents would being tossing in their graves at my most un-ladylike behavior?"

            "Do I think?" She put a hand on her waist.  "I _know_ that your awful behavior will have them tossing for years."

            I sniffled and put on a brave smile.  "I never let them down, do I?"

            Tata shook her head.  "Never once, _Mistress_, never once."

*

**A/N:**  Boy am I proud.  I got this chapter out before Friday!  Yay!  I wanted to make this chapter have another section including everyone's favorite prince (Prince Jerrold in case you're clueless) but I figured it would make it the never-ending chapter and it wouldn't really go along with the current plot. 

            To address some things mentioned in reviews:

Fuzy Llama- Jerrold _was_ the king of Kyrria, Char's dad, but you know how people name their kids after their parents or grandparents, etc.  Thus, Char and Ella's son is Prince Jerrold. 

            Rora Kuusou- As to Rosalie's similarity to Ella, I'm working hard to make them different.  I still want Rosalie to have spunk and determination, but I don't want her to be the carbon copy of Ella.

            XkpsesamewrittenX- There was no mention of Rosalie in Ella Enchanted.  She's my own made up character.  I have no idea who Diana is, either.  Could you please explain that to me?

            C.L. Rhodes- This chapter was sort of angst-y, but they'll get even more so later in the story.  

            To everyone else:  Thanks a ton for reviewing!  It makes me want to be a much better authoress than I have been!     


	6. Letters and Luck

*

CHAPTER 5

*

LETTERS AND LUCK

(OR LACK THEREOF)

PART ONE OF OUR HERIONE'S MINI-ADVENTURE

*

**A/N:  **I had big plans of updating multiple times over the holiday break, but, well, I admit that I felt more like sleeping every day away than writing.  I wrote this on one of my last days of vacation, and I didn't get to finish it until today.  I hope you enjoy, and please review!

P.S.- Prince Drago (whom you'll soon meet) might sound vaguely like a character most of you know, mostly because the names have the same meanings and I've likened the personality.  (I don't own Harry Potter, just for the record.)

P.S.S- There's a little bit of cussing, so I just wanted to warn everyone because that offends some people.  

*

"Guess what I've just heard in the town, Mistress!"  Tata scurried excitedly through the house.  I looked up from my embroidery.  I was almost finished with the piece, which was of a garden overflowing with flowers.  I had started it about two years ago, but my negligence had prolonged the length of time it had taken.  I didn't hate embroidery; I just got frustrated with how long it took to complete one flower.

            "What?  Is it exciting, will I be able to guess it?"  I set down my embroidery.  For the past two and a half weeks (ever since the book incident), I had patiently hunched over my embroidery, pulling multi-colored stitches through the creamy white fabric.

            She fluttered over to me and sat next to me elatedly.  

            "Guess!" Tata insisted, "I'm sure it will be easy."

            "The people _Edward_ sold my books to were selling them in the market?  And you bought some back?" I clasped my hands hopefully.

            "Not that.  Almost as good, if not better!  Guess again, Mistress, guess again!"

            I shrugged.  "I don't know… my uncle was killed by unknown assassins when he went into town today?"

            She shook her head profusely.  "No where close.  I'll tell you.  I was in the market, because Ollo sent me to get him some more flour.  Then I saw the cook from the palace.  There, you must be able to guess now!"

            "The king gave a royal decree saying that my uncle is forever banished from the kingdom?"

            Tata frowned.  "Think you're clever, eh?  Well, then, I'll ruin the surprise.  Your prince is back!  Jerrold has arrived back home!"  She watched my face expectantly.

            "Really?  Wow!  How long has he been home?  You'd think he'd have the decency to tell me that he got back!  Oh, my pri—Tata!  He's not _my_ prince.  How embarrassing!  I can't believe you'd say such a thing!"  I felt my cheeks burn.

            "Oh, Mistress, settle down.  I didn't mean it _that_ way.  Look how red you are!  Oh my…."

            "How long has he been back?" I repeated, annoyed and discomfited.  

            Tata furrowed her brow.  "From the way she said it, it seems like he's been back for a few days, if not a week already.  There was a party and everything on the day after his arrival."

            I gave her a surprised look.  A party?  It wasn't like I enjoyed standing around with a bunch of boring people in some stupid itchy dress, but the fact that I hadn't been invited was what bothered me.

            "And I wasn't invited?  I wonder why.  Do you think he's mad at me for some reason?  I don't know why he would be.  I mean, I would have written him, but it's hard to know exactly where one goes on such an expedition.  Why do you think he's angry?"

            Tata patted my hand.  "You worry so, Rosalie.  Why, I'm sure that it was some sort of misunderstanding of sorts.  You mustn't get so hurt over these things."

            "I'm not hurt.  I was just wondering."  I shrugged and folded my embroidery up.  "I suppose I should go see him, huh?  See what happened.  I'm sure you're right.  It was probably just some sort of, um, misunderstanding.  I guess…"

Tata sighed, taking my embroidery in her hands.  "You were so close Mistress; so close to completing it.  Now you never shall, what with the prince back in the city."

            "I'm very sorry, Tata, but I think seeing my best friend is more important than pulling thread through some piece of cloth," I replied seriously.

            "Yes, yes.  Well, I'll run and get your cloak.  It's getting awfully nippy.  I think it'll snow by tomorrow; I can feel it in my bones.  I just can't wait until spring comes.  I hate the winter."  She clambered down the stairs and I followed.

            "My, my, my, Tata!  Aren't we such a vulgar lady?  Hate is such a strong word!  What would your mother say?"  I laughed at the expression on her face.

            "Oh, Mistress, bite your tongue!  You've no idea how I'd like to give you a smart slap right across that pretty face of yours!" she replied, retrieving my thick winter cloak from the closet under the stairs.

            I eased on the warm woolen cloak and put up my hood.  

            "I'll see you later Tata!  I promise I'll be home by 5:00 for dinner, okay?"  I hugged her and gave her a small peck on the top of her head.

            She muttered something under her breath, but I saw a smile form on her face as I walked out the door.

            It was a whole lot colder than it had been the previous days.  The sky was grayer and the sun was hidden from sight.  I hurried to the stables where Kummeck, my wildly insane stallion stood in his stall, pacing back and forth.  He was always like that, anticipating the moment when he could ride free.  I almost felt bad for the horse, for even riding him around our many acres of grounds would not quench his thirst for adventure.  

            Bryant, the groom, saddled him (or attempted to saddle him).  Actually, it took both of us to buckle the saddle on, and even with the two of us it took about an hour to do so.  Then, to make matters even worse, I actually had to get _on_ the horse.  I stood on the mounting block as Bryant attempted to settle Kummeck down.  It turned out that I had to jump with my stomach sideways over the saddle, as Bryant attempted to help me get my leg over the side.  He (Bryant) eventually fell down, clutching his stomach as he laughed hysterically at me.  So much for the help!  When I finally _did_ get my leg over the side of the excited horse, I could barely get control, so we bucked for a while until I could settle him.

            We then, of course, rode through the streets of Frell.  Some of the characters you see in the streets are hilarious.  There's always that one middle-aged woman who has to keep haggling, even when the price is just right, and the stubborn vender who will never give in.  Thinking on it always gave me amusement.  

I wanted to browse through some of the books I saw on one vender's cart, but I refrained from stopping in fear that if I dismounted Kummeck, I'd never be able to get back on.  So, instead, I settled for glancing longingly at all the venders who had books on their cart.  Some had many, and some little.  Either way, I longed to have them all so my bare library would have some life in it once again.

When I finally arrived at the palace, it must have been at least 3:00.  I had spent much more time than I'd wanted in town, but there was still time enough to catch up with Jerrold.  And if I were to _happen_ to lose track of time, I'm sure Tata wouldn't have minded.  I rode through the castle gates, waving to the guards whom I'd known since I'd first become friends with Jerrold.  

I rode around the castle grounds in search of him.  There was a chance he could have been inside, but Jerrold was more of an outdoors person than I was.  At any chance, Jerrold would spend his time doing archery with his brother or riding horses.  He had a real fascination for animals, so I was sure to check the Royal Menagerie for him.

He wasn't there, though.  Jerrold wasn't anywhere.  I was about to seek out the Queen and King, before I saw Prince Drago, Jerrold's sixteen-year-old brother.  He was practicing archery in courtyard outside the palace.  Ever the ladies man, several young lasses of nobility were watching, giggling when he shot the arrow anywhere remotely close to the bulls-eye.  Could someone gag me, _please_?

Perhaps Prince Drago wasn't all that bad, but I had a sort of dislike for him.  We had never gotten along, even though our ages were the same.  That was probably because he had refused to share a tutor with his brother and I, demanding that he wouldn't get enough personal attention.  Drago's humor was dry and he was always drawling or smirking.  Sure, he was handsome; _very _handsome, but I never found him attractive as a person.  It was easy to compare Jerrold and Drago, for one brother was sunny and kind while the other was cold and ironic.

I nudged my horse in his direction, rolling my eyes as one of the girls attached herself to Drago's arm as the others watched her enviously.  How could they be so simple-minded?  That's how many girls were in my time.  They thought only of securing a good husband; nothing of improving their knowledge or falling in love.  It was of no use to feel sorry for them for they seemed happy living in their world of ignorance.  I suppose the reason I had few female friends, and none of nobility, was because I couldn't handle their shallow conversation without a roll of my eyes or a half-concealed laugh.  They might not have been the smartest people, but they knew when they were being mocked.  

"Drago, can you pry the poor girl off your arm long for me to ask you something?" I said, bracing myself to dismount the horse.  I, amazingly, managed to get off the horse without injuring myself in any way.  

Drago rolled his gray eyes, which looked quite similar to my uncle's, to be truthful.  

"Elise, would you excuse me?  _She_ wants to talk to me," Drago said, giving 'Elise' a pat on the arm.  

She giggled and blew him a kiss, batting her eyelashes.  I watched her scurry to her friends, who were seemingly gushing.  

"She's cute, Drago.  Where'd you get her?" I asked, smiling dryly.

"Looking for your husband, eh?  He's been sulking for days, apparently.  Seems his lady love has been ignoring his letters."

So things were between Drago and I.  I would liken his admirers to pets and he'd liken Jerrold and I to a married couple.  I, for one, took no offense, and I doubt he did either.  

"Huh?  What do you mean 'his lady love'?  Does he fancy anyone?"  

He gave a roll of his eyes.  "You, ignoramus!  Sheesh, have you not a clue?  Didn't you receive any of his letters?  He's been bedridden for about a week, ever since he's gotten home.  Sat in his room for his own stinkin' homecoming party.  Well, at least he was bedridden.  Left for the old palace early this morning.  He's finally well enough to leave the house, thank goodness.  It was only tuberculosis or influenza… something of the sort."

The off-handed way he said it irked me greatly.  "Do you have any idea how serious tuberculosis is?  He'll die Drago; _die_!  I doubt even _you_ could act so nonchalant when you say news as bad as that!"

He smirked.  "Oh yes.  I forgot.  It was influenza, definitely influenza.  I think there was a severe upper respiratory infection in there too.  He had a wicked fever and was throwing up all last week."

I stared at him dumbly for a second, and then forced back my worries long enough to scold him, "And you just happened to _forget_ that?  You're more nefarious than I thought.  I don't know what happened though.  He was ill and he used his energy to write to _me_?  And I didn't get any of his letters?"

Drago shrugged, a smile curling at the ends of his lips.  "He's heart-broken.  You've quite discouraged him.  His best friend cares not for him, or so he thinks."

"You're awful Drago!" I reproached, biting back hard on my anger.  I didn't want to think of exactly whose fault it was I hadn't received Jerrold's letters.  All that mattered was finding him.  

He shrugged again and sent Elise a smile and a wink.  "Do you think you could excuse us, Rosalie?  I was having a good time before you showed up."

"Yeah, sure.  Have fun, highness," I muttered, leading Kummeck back to the castle gates.

I remounted Kummeck, unfalteringly, and kicked his side.  I felt guilty, to be sure, though I knew I had no need.  It wasn't my fault I'd not received Jerrold's letters.  I had no doubt my uncle had a hand in this.  You'd think removing my one connection with my parents (my books) would be enough, but no, he had to attempt to ruin one of my few friendships!  I hated him with such intensity it was hard to find the words with which to describe it.  

My mother had always (if I was ever extremely angry with a person) told me that I should never say I hated them.  It was different with my uncle though.  It wasn't a petty dislike I had for him; it was more of a vast loathing.  I clasped the reins of the horse angrily, my knuckles white with the rigidity with which I held them.  I wanted to cry, but I was coming to the point where I knew tears did nothing.  They didn't help any situation at all, and tears only made me weak.  The last thing I needed my uncle to know was to know how hurt I was after his offenses against me.

It was beginning to flurry down on Frell by the time the old palace was visible.  I shivered in the cold blustering winds and wished to be warm.  However, I had no wish to wander into one of the warm shops on the side of the cobbled street.  I was determined to get to Jerrold and to explain the whole situation to him.  I hoped desperately that he wouldn't be angry.

Upon arrival, I climbed up the front steps, which, by each month, seemed more and more ancient.  I suppose as I grew, I was becoming more observant than I had been previously.  There were only two guards on duty during the days when no parties were taking place, and since I seemed of no threat to the old castle, I was let in without question.

"Jerrold?" I called desperately, "Jerrold, where are you?"  I ascended yet another stairwell inside the castle.  Icy air seemed to radiate from the stone floors and my feet, though well covered, began to feel frozen.  I had no idea why Jerrold would risk his health to come out in the freezing cold.  Influenza _and_ an upper respiratory infection?

I spun around anxiously, and to my surprise, Jerrold was sitting on the sill of the large window that was at the top of the stairs.  It was wide enough for one to sit on easily, and Jerrold was reclined with his back leaning on the side.  His vibrant green eyes were darker than usual with large dark circles underneath.  He didn't look 17 anymore; no, it seemed that about a month had changed him into a man much older than his true age.  I couldn't be sure if he'd seen me or not because he looked like he was in a trance.  Suddenly, he started coughing, and it shook his body violently.  I stared at him a moment, unsure of whether that sickly, older looking man was my best friend or not.  Not that I was going to waste any time thinking of _that_.

"Jerrold!  Are you insane?  You'll kill yourself, I swear!" I whipped off my cloak with no thought of how freezing I'd become and draped it over his shoulders.

He shrugged it off without looking at me.  "Hah.  Like you care?"

I felt like I'd been slapped.  So much for him not being angry…  I picked up the cloak and dusted it off.

"Jerrold, I don't blame you for being angry, but really, I don't think saving your pride is worth risking your life.  Take it," I begged softly.

"Damn it, Rosalie, keep your stupid cloak!  I'm not cold, and if I were, I'd sure as hell not take _your_ cloak," he snapped.

He'd never sworn at me.  _Ever_.  I don't think I'd ever heard him swear to anyone.  If I'd felt like I was slapped before, I felt like I'd been battered now.

"Jerrold, please!  I'm sorry.  I didn't get your letters.  Yes, I know that's an awful excuse, but it's the truth.  I don't know what happened; please try to understand!  I didn't even know you'd written me until I saw your brother this afternoon.  I didn't even know you were _back_ until this morning.  You know I wouldn't neglect you.  You're my best friend, Jerrold!  I care about you more than anyone else in the world."  I reached for his shoulder, begging with both my words and actions for his forgiveness.  I reached for his shoulder, but he batted it away.  

"It's a one-sided feeling, you can be assured," he rebutted vehemently.  He looked at me now, and the look in his eyes were so hard to decipher I found myself leaning in for a closer look.  Something about them exuded hated, yet, underneath I saw the pain in his eyes.  I'd hurt him.  I wanted desperately to hug him, but I knew there was no chance that _that_ would ever happen.

"It must have been my uncle.  You'd think after so many years of being friends that you'd trust me a little more!  I can't help my uncle's actions, Jerrold," I replied, instantly hating how forcefully I'd said it.

"You blame everything on him.  He didn't kill your mother, Rosalie.  Get over it.  You can only get all weepy and feel sorry for yourself for so long.  It's over.  She's dead.  She's not coming back anytime soon, so…"  He stopped there, and his eyes grew wide as his eyes turned to me, as if he were just realizing what he was telling me.

Every breath became increasingly shallow and I felt like I was about to burst from all the anger, hatred, and sadness coursing through me.  He hadn't meant a word of it; I knew as much.  Then why did it hurt so much?  I stared at him for a moment before I began to tremble.  Everything and anything my uncle could have said or done never would have prepared me for what he'd said.  I loved him as truly and dearly as one friend could ever love another.  I wanted his opinion on every single thing I did.  I would trust him with my life, undoubtedly; and probably, if the situation ever came, give up my life for him.  His subsistence was so much more important than my baneful existence.

I knew why it hurt.  He was everything to me now.  Mother was gone, and Father had been for many years.  I had Tata, but that wasn't the same thing.  While she was warming up to me considerably, she couldn't possibly fill the places of both Mother _and_ Jerrold.  He was my only friend for so much of my life that I was lost without him.  He stood next to me, yet it seemed we were worlds apart.

I cleared my throat.  "I'm sorry if that's how you feel.  Goodbye, highness."  I gave a curtsy and re-fastened my cloak around me and descended the stairs.

"Rosalie…"  His voice was husky.

I wanted to turn around, but streams of salty tears were running down my face.  He couldn't see how he'd hurt me.  I didn't want him to think me 'weepy' and weak.  Instead, I ran down the stairs and darted out the door, trying to choke back all and any signs of tears.  I hurried to Kummeck, who was tied to a fence and buried my face in his mane.  

"I hate him, Kummeck," I confessed, "He's ruined everything!  Why did he have to ruin everything?  He took my books; he's ruined my friendship.  I want him dead.  Will he not just die?  I hate him so…  Why did Mother have to die and leave me with_ him_?  I hate her too!  I hate everyone and everything in this horrible world!  I'm the most unlucky person in the world, to be sure."

Kummeck pranced in place, taking little interest in my revulsion with the world.  I mounted him again and headed towards home.  My uncle was going to get an earful, to be sure.

*

            I sulked into the front door of our manor, feeling some emotion between sadness and hatred, for more than one person.  I'd thought everything over as I rode home, and still, I couldn't understand why Jerrold was so angry with me, or why he had any right to say what he had.  I'd hurt him, I knew as much and I wanted more than anything to repent, but I hardly felt that I should apologize after he'd said… well_, that_ to me.  

            Still, while I felt I was not in the wrong, something about that look on his face stung me.  I felt a tremble in me whenever I thought about it.  I tried to rationalize it within my head that I was only shivering, but, for obvious reasons, that wouldn't account for the tears that started up every once in a while.

            I pulled open the door, the metal handle extremely cold on my frozen fingers.

            "Ah, Rosalie, there you are!" Tata exclaimed, bustling down the stairs.  "How- why child, your as pale as a ghost!  My, you look like you _saw_ a ghost.  Whatever is wrong?"

            I looked down at my hands as I fiddled with the dirt underneath my fingernails.  "Nothing.  Nothing happened.  No ghosts involved.  Truthfully."

            "Hmmm, does the truthfully apply to the 'nothing happened' or the ghosts?  Because I know for a fact something must have."  She touched my cheek, before retreating her hand.

            "Your as cold as ice, Mistress!"  She took my hand in hers and tugged me towards the sitting room where a fire was blazing.  "Warm yourself before you die of pneumonia!"

            I savored the heat that radiated from the oak fireplace, but stepped back, remembering what I'd come here to do.  

            "Where's Edward?  I want to tell him something before I leave," I said resolutely.

            "Leave?  There is no way I'm going to let you leave this house; no sir!  Your mother would have me hanged if she saw how ill I've watched over you today," she said sternly.

            I glanced into the cracking and popping blaze and felt my anger rise.  "She doesn't matter.  She's in the ground, rotting away into nothingness.  I don't believe in afterlife.  There's no conceivable way that there is such a thing.  She's not watching over me as she promised.  And she died in vain, for she shall never see Father again."

            Tata grew angry at that.  "No afterlife you say?  Have you no faith?  Her body may be 'rotting away into nothingness' in the ground, but her soul is as alive as ever.  I'm worried.  You're… morbid, and you're never like that unless something terrible has happened."

            I said nothing reply, and was about to move when I heard his voice.

            "Tatiana!  In Kyrria's name, where are you? Ah, there!  Tell Ollo I want Roast Beef tonight.  I've recently purchased an estate in Tortulia and I'm in a festive mood."

            I looked over my shoulder and clenched my fists.  "Don't you take one footstep, uncle _dearest_.  I've got a few things I'd like to settle."

            He raised an eyebrow.  "Suddenly, I'm not so festive.  Yes, girl, what is it?  I'd like to finish signing some papers." 

            "Did you steal my letters?" I snapped, approaching him.

            He got a goofy smile before putting on a mock-bewildered face.  "Letters?  Why, child, I haven't the slightest idea what you mean!"

            " I'm gullible enough to buy _that_.  It's too late to do anything about a ruined friendship, and I'm sure I've established that I hate you already, so I just want you to admit that you were the one who took them," I said bitterly.

            He smirked.  "In that case, I admit it.  I took your letters."

            I furrowed my brow.  "Your such a…. I can't believe you'd stoop that low.  Just to spite me!  Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?  I knew it was you, and I don't know why I thought you admitting it would help, but… Did I mention I hate you?  Everything… you had to ruin everything I had left, didn't you?"

            "I thought you weren't going to overreact," he said to me curtly, before turning to Tata, "Roast beef, alright?  I'll be in my room."

            "I never said that," I called after him, clenching my jaw, "I'm leaving too.  And I won't come back.  And no one will even notice I'm gone because no one cares about me at all.  So there.  Did you hear that, Edward?  I'm gone.  You won't have to worry about me getting in the way of your big plans and get rich schemes."

            He laughed at me.  I glared.

            "Oh Mistress… I had no idea.  I'm very sorry," Tata said gently and sympathetically, "But leaving would be foolish.  You'll get ill."

            "Good.  I hope I get ill and die out of pure exhaustion and coldness.  No one will care.  _I_ won't even care.  I hope I do, as a matter of fact.  I'll leave right now to get my pathetic existence over with."

            "Rosalie…"

            I said nothing in reply and ignored any doubts in my plan.  I knew how stupid and childish I was being; the thing was, I didn't care.  I marched to the door defiantly as Tata watched me anxiously.  I pulled it open, sent her a victorious smile (as if I'd won some great battle with her) and shut it in her face, before heading back to the stables for Kummeck.

*


	7. Coming to Terms

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CHAPTER 6

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COMING TO TERMS

PART TWO OF OUR HERIONES MINI-ADVENTURE

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Perhaps it was a bad idea to have run away. Scratch that, it _was_ a bad idea; an _awful_ idea. Why I'd thought that it'd fix anything was beyond me. But I was not going back, no matter what. I wasn't going to let my uncle or Jerrold, or even Tata know that I couldn't survive independently.

I held my head high and continued to ride. Where I was I honestly can't tell you. I'd lost my way about three hours before then, right about the time where my feet became feeling-less. All I knew was that I was somewhere in the woods, and that there was a mountain in the distance. It must have been Mt. AphchuZ, a habitat of the Gnomes, for no other mountain seemed in reasonable geographic distance. If, of course, my geographic studies hadn't been in vain) that I was currently in the Yan Gane Fochel Forest.

Those thoughts were hardly assuring, since the forest was about 300 acres in diameter. Nevertheless, I prided myself with my uncanny sense of direction that I had inherited (or was haughty enough to assume I had inherited) from my father. So, to my understanding, I'd eventually reach somewhere or someone who would take me in. Then, who knows? Perhaps I'd become part of some traveling act where I'd awe people with the incredibly large size of my feet (it _could_ happen). Or I could get some food and spend the night and return home. The latter seemed more plausible, so I assumed that was what would come to pass.

I'd tried to forget about the whole ordeal, but it lingered in the back of my mind. Why had Jerrold been so mad? What was the matter with him? It frustrated me extremely, and the more I thought on it, the more I felt like marching (or riding) to the palace and demanding he explain himself. And even though I knew he hadn't meant half the things he'd said, they still bothered me. Did I really blame my uncle for everything? And if so, did I have the right?

I found the answers to both questions yes. He'd single-handedly ruined my life. There was no way around it. How could any of that be considered _my _fault? He'd failed to call a real doctor to attend Mother, he'd confined me to my room for about a month for some trivial fight, and then, after all that, he'd stole the letters my best friend had written me when he was extremely ill. That was about as low as one could get, in my book at least. Our first fight _might_ have been my fault, but he'd spurred me, and he'd punished me extremely severely.

I continued on, debating with myself as the temperature continued to decline further and further. It must have been about seven or eight o'clock by the time my hands were numb as well, and my wind-chapped face was as cold as the snow that covered the forest like a blanket. I rubbed my hands together, abandoning the reins, and jumped off Kummeck, hoping the jolt would reawaken the feeling in my feet. Kummeck, once I'd dismounted, refused to let me get back on him, so I grabbed his reins firmly and led him behind me, my patience and prideful assurance in myself both beginning to fade.

In what must have been a mere hour, my feet began to drag and the hem of both my cloak and dress were soaked in water. My stomach began to grumble and the only thing that kept me going was my fear of freezing to death. Everything I'd said to my uncle and Tata was false. I didn't want to die. Even without a best friend, even with an awful uncle, I still felt there was enough good in the world to tempt me. The thought of dying frightened me terribly, and as the degrees dropped rapidly, I felt myself beginning to cry. I mourned the loss of my short life. I mourned how I'd never gotten my first kiss, or lived to have a family or get married. I mourned leaving Tata without a person in the world, and I mourned dying without resolving things with Jerrold. I mourned never getting to read all the books the world had to offer me, or being able to teach others the joy of them all. Finally, I mourned never getting to give my uncle a black eye.

I cried and cried until I fell to my knees and began to sob uncontrollably. Or at least that's what I thought I was doing. I was so deep in hysterics that I couldn't quite distinguish whether I was laughing or crying. I had enough about myself to laugh at. I was completely and utterly pathetic. I knelt in the numbingly cold snow and cried and laughed uncontrollably, not even moving when I saw Kummeck gallop away nor when I felt the cold wetness of the snow seep through my layers of clothing and chilling my legs. I just sat in the snow for an undistinguished amount of time, a pathetic and pitiable wreck.

When I eventually tried to stand up, I found I didn't have enough energy or strength, which upset me further. Now I _was_ dead, there was no hope of survival. It was all over. I sprawled out in the snow, shivering and chattering, crying and laughing, and awaiting the world to come.

That was when they came upon me. At first they were a blur of black through my tear filled eyes, but when they came closer, I made out the figures. It was a band of hunters, of the Gnomish race as far as I could tell. They stared at me, and I stopped my hysterics and sat up to stare at them. I sniffled for a minute, teeth chattering and all, before I said, "Help. _Please_?"

I knew Gnomish (I'd worked long and hard to learn a portion of all the languages) but at that moment, I was so confused and frantic, all I could manage was Kyrrian. I couldn't be sure whether they knew my language or not, but I think the tone of my voice explained how desperate I was.

The tallest Gnome (who was extraordinarily tall for his race) handed his bow to another hunter and bent down to scoop me up. I looked up to his face for a moment before hugging myself and clenching my jaw to stop chattering. The Gnome didn't look at me, just held me and walked with no hurried pace or urgency. The band walked slowly and calmly as the snow fluttered down from the sky. I closed my eyes, the slow momentum of his steps lulling me to sleep. The snow, the movement, the calmness…

I didn't feel so cold anymore, or nearly as afraid. I just felt… nothing. Or almost nothing. I wasn't thinking about Jerrold or my mother, or my uncle even. No, the only thing on my mind was how beautiful the snow was as it dotted the beards and hair of the other Gnomish hunters. I felt like smiling almost. I liked that feeling, that of not worrying about people or their thoughts on me. Or perhaps even better, not _worrying_. I was careless. I leaned my head onto the Gnomes chest.

"It's pretty, huh?" I whispered softly, looking up into his face. His jaw was clenched, as if he was restraining himself from yelling at me. I wasn't worried though. I laughed deliriously.

"Stupid Kyrrian. You think _I _care for your sentimental views? Do you realize that this 'pretty' snow almost killed you? I doubt it. Humans in general are not the smartest creatures."

I stared at him. "That's kind of rude, don't you think? I know history, and… and I know languages, too! I could talk your language if you want. I know lots." I giggled then took a good look at his face, thoughtfully. "You don't look very Gnomish to me."

He glared pure venom at me. "Would you like to freeze to death in the snow, pitiful girl? It's none of your business who or what I am."

I sobered from my delirious state. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just… I feel bad now." I threw back my head let out a laugh. "That was a lie. I don't feel. Not my feet, or my conscience, or anything! Am I going to die? Hah! I don't care!"

"You're obviously coming down with something," he muttered, "smmOlpt, gRatt zhAthulPa."

The Gnomish man nodded and jogged ahead. I waved at his backside.

My temples were beginning to pound. "That… that means that you-uuh want zzhaterrr-hulpp-y, hu-uh? Is she your-ruh doctor?" I giggled again at myself. My tongue had seemed so jumbled in my mouth that my words hadn't come out quite right.

The man (or Gnome, rather) looked at me, his eyes worried. "You're slurring; that's not good. zRatheLl, szOlpt!"

szlOpt, the Gnome who was getting "zhAthulPa" looked over his shoulder and 'ran', as he had been told.

"Ru-un," I called out happily, " 'zRra-atheLl'. There. See, I told you-uh! I'm ver-ry prof-ish-int. Pro-fish… Huh?"

My Gnome (as I had deemed him) set me down for a moment. I stumbled around, swatting the air for someone to hold onto me. One of the Gnomish hunters held me up as my Gnome took off the cape he was wearing. He took off my sopping wet cloak and handed it to one of his companions.

I grumbled in protest. "Nu-uh! My mo-other-rr got me that!"

"Shhh," my Gnome comforted, "This one is warmer."

"I'm no-ot c-cold, thou-ugh," I chattered, as he unfastened it from my neck.

"Shut up! You're shaking like crazy. Here… Don't make this difficult for me, girl! I don't want to waste my energy on you!"

"zrAtlpT, what's going on?" I looked up and saw a cloaked Gnomish woman. She was young, for she was still very narrow and was also the prettiest Gnome I'd ever seen. Not that I'd seen many Gnomes in my day, but she far surpassed the female ones that'd I'd seen visiting the palace. Her long, ebony hair was tied out of her face in a simple ponytail, but nevertheless, she seemed elegant, and her entire manner called for respect.

"Te-ell hi-im to l-leave-rr me al-llone!" I cried to her, desperately.

"zhAthulPa, she's obviously delirious. She's slurring and stumbling. What's wrong?"

zhAthulPa knelt beside me, her bright copper eyes shining brilliantly, even in the dark. She reached for my hand, and withdrew after a second.

"Pure ice," she murmured. "It's serious, zrAtlpT. We have to get her back." She turned to the other Gnomes and talked quickly to them in Gnomish. My temples were pounding too loudly for me to attempt to decipher their meaning.

"Mt AphchuZ is very near," she said softly to me. "Fear not, lady. Fear not."

I wanted to tell her that I wasn't afraid at all; that I wasn't anything, just like I'd told my Gnome. But the words seemed, yet again, jumbled in my mouth. This time, however, they wouldn't come out at all. I blinked a couple of times, there seemed to be hammers pounding away at my poor head. My vision was blurring, and the second the hunter let go of me, I felt myself swaying uncontrollably, before I landed with a crisp _crunch_ in the snow. I laid there for a moment, curling up into a little ball.

"Lady, you mustn't! You'll…"

I didn't hear any more of her warning. Everything spun faster and faster, and I had clamped my hands of my head in complete and utter pain. I kicked my legs out, in what was the start of a tantrum. My head was killing me! That lack of feeling… that 'no pain' phase, had completely disappeared. Everything hurt and everything was as cold as ice. I began to cry again, this time without the confusion of whether I was laughing or crying. I was crying; _sobbing_ actually. Jerrold hated me, my uncle hated me, and Mother was gone forever…

I let out a scream and continued to squirm about in agony. I kicked my legs and pounded my arms, sprawled in the freezing cold snow, yelling at the top of my voice. I could see the dark forms of the Gnomes, but whenever they reached for me, I batted their arms away in a fit of blind fury.

"G-GET AWA-AY FRROM ME-EEE," I screamed.

"I don't want to do this, Miss, but if you don't calm down-" zhAthulPA's attempt to scream over me failed.

"NO-OOO, STOP I-IT!"

I felt a hand firmly grasp my arm, and I struggled fervently, kicking blindly at the air. There was a sudden, sharp prick in my arm and I suddenly stopped struggling. I stared around meekly at the party; all my aggression had disappeared at the moment of that prick. My limbs felt loose and any control I had over them had drained out quickly. I tried to move to reach out for the help I had just denied, but I couldn't move anything. I peered around, and with a final sigh, closed my eyes. I couldn't open them again, either. They were much too heavy to lift, and I was much too tired to try. I just wrapped my Gnome's cloak around me and rolled into a lump in the snow.

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I rolled over, uncomfortably. My head was pounding again. Again? Was it even again? What if that whole mess was just some sort of bad dream? I prayed it was. I didn't have the strength to open my eyes, not did I have any intention of doing so. If I just laid there forever, I would never have to face the pain if it hadn't been a dream. I was so sick and tired of pain. Was anything good ever going to happen to me again? Maybe bad things came in threes. Mother's death, Uncle Edward's cruelty, and Jerrold's anger… Maybe good things were going to come, too. I decided to risk it and open my eyes.

It hadn't been a dream. My heart sank considerably. I was in a dark room with smooth, stone walls. I immediately made the assumption that I was under Mt. AphchuZ in one of the Gnomish colonies. That of course, would match the fragment of what I remembered of earlier happenings. I sighed and lingered in my blankets a little longer. Okay, I was planning on staying in that warm little haven for a _lot_ longer. That was before zhAthulPa came into the room. I remembered her pretty face and how she was dignitary in every way. And I remember her trying to help me and that I batted her away. I hoped she wasn't mad at me.

"Lady? Are you awake?" She scurried to my side, and quickly put her hand to my forehead. She smiled.

"I'm awake. And I'm fine too. No need to worry about old Rosalie. She'll be up and at 'em in a few minutes… or hours," I sighed and regarded what I'd just said. "Why am I talking about myself as if I'm in third person?"

zhAthulPa laughed, her copper eyes glinting, but in a completely trustworthy way. It wasn't like the kind of glint people got in their eyes at the sight of gold or treasures. I supposed it was just a natural thing when your eyes looked like a metal.

"I'm glad you're alright… Rosalie, is it?"

I nodded, still harboring the hope that she'd let me linger in my cocoon of warmth for just a bit longer.

"Do you want food? Are you cold? Hot?" zhAthulPa asked, "Do you need some remedy for your head? For your stomach?"

I laughed (not deliriously, mind you) and patted her hand that was set out on the bed next to me.

"I'm fine thank you. You've already done quite enough as it is," I replied, "I mean the hunters could of left me out to die… and you! You didn't have to take care of me."

"How did you know that I took care of you?" she asked, her face looking almost amazed at my assumption.

"A wild guess."

zhAthulPa broke out into a smile. "Oh."

"What time is it? And is it even the same day? I doubt it," I murmured, half to myself. What if it had been a week? Tata would be worried to death, and she'd probably think I was dead. Why hadn't I appreciated Tata? She still loved me! Of course, I had chosen not to see that. I had wanted to be a martyr, a pitiable girl who had everything going wrong for her. In doing so I'd forgotten one of the most important people in my life.

"It's been four; almost five days. You've slept most of the time. Or you were unconscious. Your temperature was very low, so we brought you back here and changed you out of your wet clothes. We had to warm you up through body heat."

I looked at her, blushing a little, but quite understanding the severity of the situation. "I owe you my life."

zhAthulPa looked at me thoughtfully. "I never quite understood that. You shouldn't have to owe someone your life, just because they saved yours. Unless you sacrifice your life for them, you'll never pay them back. And then you'll have a guilty conscience. You shouldn't put yourself in debt to someone if there's no way to pay him or her back other than dying. I think that's a rather stupid saying, don't you think?"

I shrugged, hugging my knees to my chest. "I never thought of it that way. But you're right. I guess it is sort of stupid."

"Besides, I could have cost you your life. I thought that in sedating you, it would help to get you back here quicker. It did, but I found out that in rendering you unconscious is one of the worst things you can do when someone is severely below temperature! I'm very sorry. My grandfather was upset with me that I didn't know better. I'm supposed to succeed him as the leader of this clan until my little brother is old enough, and I'm supposed to learn all his duties. Doctoring is one of them. I suppose I'm very poor at it for nearly taking your life."

"You barely cost me my life," I retorted, shocked that she could possibly think to blame herself for the whole ordeal, "I was the one who wandered out into the freezing cold. I was being stupid. If I were to die, that would have been my fault, wouldn't it?"

zhAthulPa shrugged. "I suppose. Still…"

"No! I will brook no further self-doubt. You're a great doctor. You saved me. I'm your living proof. Now, about that food…"

She grinned. "I was hoping you'd ask! The women of the clan wanted to welcome our visitor with a feast. They've been making dinner all day, but they barely anticipated your awakening. Therefore, the dinner is a bit modest, but I'm sure you don't mind. I don't think they understood how hypothermic you were when you first came, but now that you're feeling a little better, I'm sure they'd like to re-welcome you. Besides, I think it'd be good to get some food into your system."

Instead of throwing off my covers, I gathered them around me as a cape of sorts. "I think I'll take your advice, doctor."

"It'll take some time for them to cook up all they've got planned. You could meet everyone, though," zhAthulPa said, cheerfully, "The children are just dying to see a Kyrrian. The last human to come here was a year ago, and the younger children barely remember him. Besides, he was a man, as most of our visitors are. They've never seen a Kyrrian woman, or a human woman, ever!"

Before I could respond, she cut me off hurriedly. "That if, if you're up to it. I wouldn't want to make you do anything too strenuous especially in your condition."

"I'm fine, I guarantee you. My legs feel a little weak, but that's most likely from not being used," I assured her, "I feel alright, really! I wouldn't want to deprive the children of this once in a lifetime experience. I just hope I'm not going to disappoint them. I'm not exactly the most stable girl. But if I were, then I wouldn't be here right now, would I? So I guess I'll do just fine."

zhAthulPa gave me another thoughtful look. "You seem completely stable. I think you just went through something difficult. That's what I can sense."

"Are you physic?" I asked, awed by her. How did she know? Did she know about my mother and uncle? Did she know what Jerrold had said?

"No," zhAthulPa replied, slightly disappointing me, "I just can read people. You know. Not in detail. But I can sense their past," she replied, "It means I'll be able to see the outline of the future when I'm older. Just like Grandfather."

I looked at her surprised. Compared to her, I found myself rather pathetic. She was a doctor, she was kind to complete strangers, and she was going to be able to read the future. What was I going to do? Become a greedy Duchess? I found myself very envious. Perhaps I _was_ going to inherit hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of KJ's, but I wasn't going to get a chance to help people like zhAthulPa. I could (for I certainly had the resources), but I didn't have any apparent talents. Unless you counted reading as a talent, of course.

"You ready?" zhAthulPa asked, softly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Sure," I replied, smiling slightly, "As ready as I'll ever be."

"There really is no pressure you know. Simply being you will impress everyone enough. Simply being here is enough to impress everyone. They'll be awed by your bravery. Not every girl in Frell has the guts to run away into the woods," she assured me.

"Stupidity, more like," I replied, before zhAthulPa gave me a sharp look. "No, I suppose you're right. The mysterious, brave girl from Kyrria will amaze them all. They'll wonder who I am. Whether or not they can trust me. What if I were a thief, here to steal their riches?"

zhAthulPa gave me an incredulous look, and seemed to be preparing to tell me how incredible foolish I was. That's when it hit her I was kidding. She burst out laughing.

"Yes, how _will_ they know? Perhaps your past is even darker than that. Perhaps you're a murderer, here to kill our children in their sleep!" zhAthulPa smiled ear-to-ear.

I gave her a look of mock-terror. "Yes! That's definitely what I am. An assassin… Do you think they'll take the risk to associate with me?"

zhAthulPa winked at me. "I think they'll all risk it. You don't exactly look like you're too threatening."

"They never do," I replied in a dark voice, then cheerfully added, "Shall we?"

With another laugh, zhAthulPa gestured to the door. I followed her out of the dark chamber, into perhaps the most astounding room I'd ever seen. It was not lavish, but the simple splendor of the cavern amazed me. There were long, thick beams of wood that acted as rafters in the cave. In between them, hung ancient stalactites. I'd prefer this room to the extravagant decorations in the Kyrrian palace any day. I'd never seen stalactites before, only illustrations, and the true things surpassed any mere illustration. They appeared to be icicles made of stone, formed by millions of years of dripping mineral solutions.

The room had one long table that was made out of dark wood, most likely mahogany. Behind the table, was a large fireplace with a crackling fire and several large pots hanging inside it. The fireplace was simple a niche embedded into the wall of the mountain with knee high rock wall around it so the ashes and such didn't escape into the cave. Or at least I presumed. Pots were bubbling over it and the aroma of a stew carried through the air.

There were children playing with crude toys on a rug on the other side of the long table, sitting on a rug of animal skins. There were two older girls watching over the boys as they poked at each other with their wooden swords. The girls sat docilely, playing with their rag dolls, requiring little supervision. The women of the clan were standing in a semi-circle around the fireplace, gabbing in their fluent Gnomish. I supposed half the men were mining precious metals and expensive jewels from the caves farther below the great hall that I was in. The other half were probably refining the metals they found, turning them into the exquisite Gnomish jewelry.

The whole idea of having all the members of the clan living together in one great cavern was intriguing to me. Instead of living separate lives, like the families in Kyrrian society, the Gnomes lived and worked with one another. Instead of being complete strangers with you second and third cousins, they'd become as close to you as your brothers and sisters. I didn't even know my second and third cousins! Even just watching them briefly, I could tell that they had separate daily routines; the men from the women, and the women from the children. Still, every evening, as evident by the humongous table, they all gathered together to eat.

"trEljj serR Rrossolie," zhAthulPa called out, stirring everyone from his or her activities. ("This is Rosalie" when translated.)

The children, as could be expected of them, rushed over eagerly. The women however stayed in place, keeping a mindful eye on the bubbling dinner cooking over the fire. However, they still managed to give me a welcoming smile.

"Welcome. I am zaeelChr," an older woman said, smiling at me, "It is lovely to finally get to meet our visitor."

As she did it, the wrinkles folded into deeper wrinkles. Heck, her wrinkles' wrinkles folded themselves into deeper creases in her face! She had zhAthulPa eyes, or rather, zhAthulPa had her eyes. They were copper-colored, less vibrant from age I assume, but they still twinkled in the dim lighting of the cave. Also like zhAthulPa, her demeanor called for respect. This Gnome's age made her even more of a dignified woman.

"She is my grandmother," zhAthulPa confirmed, smiling merrily.

I smiled, unsure of how to greet her grandmother. Did Gnome's shake hands? Or would a simple 'fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eearth ymmadboech evtoogh brzzaY' be fine? The last thing I wanted was to make a fool of myself. Being near of age to zhAthulPa made it easy to talk to her and easier to be myself. But talking to this woman; this stately Gnome, I felt as tongue-tied as I did around the King or Queen (or Court Linguist and Cook's Helper, as she insisted all her personal acquaintances call her).

I finally decided upon a casual, "Pleased to meet you." I curtsied, and surprisingly, I managed to do it with the utmost grace. "Thank you for being so hospitable to me."

She smiled. "Are you this polite always? Why, we have a lady of breeding before us!"

I shook my head quickly. "No, ma'am, I'm afraid not. I'm probably the most laid-back courtier you'll ever meet! Jerrold's right up there with me… but he's the prince. Does that count as a courtier?" I smiled brightly, before it hit me that I shouldn't have led on to the Gnomes that I was friends with the prince. I, of course, wanted more than anything to be his friend again. He, on the other hand, probably regarded me as lowly as the dirt under his feet.

"A noble are you? A _relaxed_ noble? I'm pleased to meet you. I can speak on behalf of the Gnomes in our clan that you are more than welcome here… I'm sorry, but I didn't happen to catch your name…"

"Rosalie," I said. "Rosalie of Frell."

"Well, Rosalie, the men will arrive for dinner soon. The children are about to die with anticipation… please don't mind if they are a bit rude. They've never seen a Kyrrian woman before. They might have a lot of questions… zhAthulPa, can you translate?"

"No need, mmrEemann, Rosalie speaks Gnomish. At least that's what zrAtlpT tells me. Or is that only when you're delirious?" zhAthulPa asked, smiling.

I was going to puff my chest with pride after she'd said she didn't need to translate for me, but the latter part made me feel rather embarrassed. I blushed and replied, "I know how to speak it. At least a good deal of it. I get a little confused about the participles sometimes."

zhAthulPa's grandmother didn't seem to hear me. She was intently focused on her granddaughter. "zrAtlpT will be joining us tonight. I hope you don't mind."

"mmrEemann… Of course I don't mind. Just please don't say anything. I don't need the pressure," she muttered in return.

"qwRootch nrechw, mmrhthOoran," zhAthulPa's grandmother told her, before rejoining the women gathered by the fireplace.

I sent zhAthulPa a curious look, but very soon after the children were pulling on my skirt, their metallic colored eyes shining.

"zreEtvh eRvemm frEEaechll?" A Gnomish girl asked, her silver eyes shining luminously as she wondered where I was from.

"Frell, nellain" I answered. ('Frell, child')

She nodded comprehensively. And stepped back, letting the other little children ask their questions. None of the questions were at all intrusive, as one would expect children to ask. They were all simple, like 'What is your name?' or 'How old are you?'. I answered their questions patiently, but the name zaeelChr kept ringing in my kind. _zrAtlpT_… that name sounded vaguely familiar. Could it be my Gnome they spoke of? I knew how hopelessly nosy I was being, so I focused my full attention on the eager children.

The children finished their questions and I was sort of disappointed that I hadn't found any way to amuse them. The children seemed elated enough, undoubtedly, but I hadn't found my performance on to be so excited over. Perhaps zhAthulPa had been right. Simply being here _had_ impressed the children very much.

It was about the exact moment when after the children left me that at least a dozen male Gnomes filed out of the mines. Many of them took seats at the large table, other greeted their wives, and a few came to greet me.

zaeelChr, zhAthulPa's grandmother, told me, "There is one more coming. My husband who casts our jewelry; you have heard of our magnificent fineries, no doubt; is not yet here. Once he has arrived, we will begin to eat. A stew and bread are all we have prepared. I hope that will satisfy your hunger, Rosalie of Frell."

"Certainly, ma'am," I said appreciatively.

"Very well, very well," she said smiling subtly, "Now where is my grandson? Causing trouble no doubt…"

I watched zaeelChr walk off in search of zhAthulPa's brother, a young Gnome with the copper eyes that ran in his family and a little beard. (Maybe it was just me, but I found it very funny that even Gnomish toddlers had beards. Something about a baby with a beard struck me as hilarious.) I stood, greeting the men of the clan politely. There was absolutely no hostility, but there was no extraordinary hospitality. I told myself that I hadn't expected such a reaction, but I guess I had been spoiled by zhAthulPa's warmth towards me. She didn't seem anywhere in sight, and I was quickly realizing how rude it would be to ask her about her conversation with her grandmother. Perhaps, in her own time she would tell me. Why did I have to be so awful? I hated Jerrold for always telling me all his secrets, even when I hadn't asked to hear them. Now I _had_ to know everyone's secrets and scandals. Stupid Jerrold…

"Grandfather!" zhAthulPa's brother exclaimed in Gnomish, scurrying away from the restraining arms of his grandmother over to the Gnomish man.

"Yes, little one. Ahh! I see our visitor has roused from her slumber," he said, winking at me before turning to his wife, "Well, zaeelChr, I have finished my latest piece that you have so long been nagging me to finish. I suppose it would be best to show it after dinner, yes?" He looked at me for a second before murmuring something to his wife, who looked at me for a moment with bright eyes. If I'd thought zhAthulPa or her grandmother were respectable figures, this Gnome was the definition of stately. He looked as ancient as the mountain, yet his eyes seemed as bright and youthful as the small Gnomish boy that was pulling on his hand eagerly.

"_rzreeAtt_? zhaNglled, we haven't heard one in such a long time! How excited everyone will be!" zaeelChr smiled and rushed off to the other ladies in a hurry. I looked at zhAthulPa's grandfather curiously. Was what he said to his wife about me? And why in the world couldn't I mind my own business?

Soon after, all of us took a seat at the grand table, me at the right hand side of zhaNglled, the leader of the clan. I'd never been an honored guest before, so I was excited to get all that attention. Still, while that pleased me, two things were bothering me. What was the problem with zrAtlpT coming to the dinner (though he had yet to show up) and what had zhAthulPa's grandfather told his wife? What bothered me more was that those things bothered me. Why couldn't I be a good guest? Did I just have to ruin everything?

In the middle of my second bowl of the Gnome's delicious stew, zrAtlpT finally made his long awaited appearance. There was a buzzing between the children and quite a few, including zhAthulPa's brother, rushed over to hug him. As far as I could see, he was quite popular with the children. The adults gave him polite nods and a few polite greetings in between spoonfuls of soup. zhAthulPa was flushing crimson, which made me even more curious. zrAtlpT took a seat to the left of zhaNglled, talking conversationally to the head of the clan.

I studied zrAtlpT for a moment. Though I'd said it in delirium, I continued to notice how he didn't look very Gnomish. Sure, he had the right skin color and eyes, but he lacked the short stature and very defined features. He looked almost human. I received a glare from him and quickly put my eyes back to my plate.

After dinner was over, zhaNglled stood up. Instantly all the eyes went to him respectively, and the women who had been collecting the dirty plates ceased their chore and took a seat.

"I am quite sure everyone has met our visitor, if not they have seen her," he said, "Now child, come here and let me see your hand. I promise I do not bite."

The eyes of the clan turned to me. I approached him, extremely bewildered, but offered him my hand. He accepted it into his calloused palm. That was when the magic began. His copper eyes began to cloud over, as if there were a storm were blowing in from nowhere. Everyone watched us, almost as mystified as I was. Was he sensing my future? I had heard of such things, and how rare it was to meet a Gnome who could sense one's future. Then again, zhAthulPa had told me someday she, like her grandfather could read futures. Yes, I was certain he was reading mine.

Suddenly, he let go of my hand, his eyes reverting back to the shiny copper they previously were. He was silent for a moment, and I felt my heart sink. It obviously was not good.

Bravely, I ventured to ask him, "What did you see, sir?"

He smiled at me. "You have seen much child, and you are soon to see more. There are three men in your life, are there not? Be careful where you place your trust and always watch your back, for one of them will try to take advantage of you. One you have never trusted, for the many years you have known him, and you never shall. Though hardships are yet to come, you will manage to persevere. You must always keep faith in yourself. You are a fighter; I can tell. Do not be discouraged, neellain."

I looked at for a moment, dumbfounded. Now I had to worry over whom I could trust and whom I couldn't. My uncle was obviously out of the question. But what about Waldor and Jerrold? zhaNglled had told me to be careful where I placed my trust and to watch out for myself. I knew myself well enough, and I knew that I would always trust Jerrold. Was Jerrold the one who was to take advantage of me? I couldn't imagine it, but I worried of what the future held.

I took a seat, no longer concerned with what was between zhAthulPa and zrAtlpT. Now I had my own problems to deal with. How would I ever be able to sleep again with these awful thoughts lingering in my mind? The Gnomes were all staring at me awed at me. I no longer cared to impress anyone. I just wanted to get home to Tata's safe arms and relate all my awful tales to her. She didn't have all the answers; no, she didn't have very many at all, but she listened almost as well as Alleopes. She could comfort me.

zhAthulPa looked at me, her eyes painful. "Are you alright?"

I shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know. I'm just so sick of these things happening to me…"

"I know," she said. "Don't worry. Everyone will be going to their rooms after we clean up from dinner. You can be alone if you wish." She paused for a moment. "Or we could talk. Not if you don't want to, though."

I smiled. "I'd like that."

-

"So, that's everything?" zhAthulPa asked finally, after I'd told her my tale. "That sure is a lot to happen to you in such a short time. Jerrold certainly was angry, it seems. Is he one quick to anger? And if so, is he one to hold lengthy grudges?"

"That's the funny thing," I told her, hugging a pillow to my chest, "He's neither."

zhAthulPa shrugged, playing with her feet as we sat cross-legged on my bed. It was now into the early hours of the morning, for I hadn't spared her one detail of the last months of my life.

"This will certainly get better," she replied, "Jerrold will come along. I can tell."

I looked at the pillow lost in my thoughts. Would it? Would things get better? How would I ever know whether or not I could trust Jerrold again?

"You're worried, aren't you?" zhAthulPa asked. Her copper eyes were shimmering in the soft candlelight.

"My future seems dismal. Your grandfather said I'd rise above it, but that I had to have faith in myself. I don't think I can do that when I have no power over anything anymore," I admitted.

"No one has power over all the aspects of his or her life. You have to have faith in yourself; that things will turn out alright if you try enough," zhAthulPa said softly, "I told zrAtlpT the same thing years ago. I suppose I should tell you about the whole thing."

I smiled. "Could you tell? That I was curious, I mean? I'm sorry, it's just my nature."

"Well, zrAtlpT and I have been best friends forever," she began softly, "He lived with out clan for half of his life. He's half human, half Gnome, and his clan didn't accept him. That's a whole other story. Anyways, because of his background and the fact of who his parents were, he was shunned. So, from the time I was just a leeTkst neellain, we've been friends. He is very kind… just not to humans. His mother died in childbirth and his human father abandoned him. My parents took him in, and he was raised as a part of our clan.

"zrAtlpT's own clan faced some hard times. I think they were just getting what they deserved. There was not a son born for 7 years in their clan. And as you know, the men are the basis of the Gnomish industry. Since zrAtlpT's clan was very traditional, not even those other than the sons or grandsons of the clan leader can rule there. zrAtlpT's grandfather was growing old, and he needed a successor. So, they accepted him back in when he was 13, and I was 12. That same year, my parents died. They were killed actually, by a band of ogres. My brother was only one year old. My parents were almost his parents too, so it hit us both hard. He helped me to cheer up and… I don't know. It was last year that everyone agreed for us to marry. They even had a wedding for us a month ago. I sort of… I _did_ purposely miss the wedding. I love zrAtlpT, I really do but…"

She trailed off for a moment, and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I want to see a few things before I'm stuck here, cooking and cleaning for the rest of my life."

I looked down and smiled. "Yeah. I want to see the world, too. When I was younger; when Jerrold _and_ I were younger, and before we knew any better, he promised to make me his queen. I don't think either of us really knew what that entailed, but we were so little it wasn't that big of deal. I told him that I wanted to go everywhere, and he told me that he'd show me the world so long as I'd be happy. Maybe if you told zrAtlpT why you didn't want to get married he'd understand," I said, before laughing at myself, "Then again, I don't know how much you can trust sixteen-year-old Rosalie, let alone my four-year-old self."

zhAthulPa gave me a firm look. "You've got to stop doing that, or I'll make you! If anything is to go well for you again, you've got to be confident in yourself. And frankly, I think that's the best advice I've heard. I tried to tell my grandmother about it, but she told me that I was being silly, and that marriage was the best for both our clans. 'You have to stop being selfish,' she said. And I know I am being selfish. But I've never been into any of the Kyrrian cities, or even past the outskirts of this forest. There's too much to see to spend your entire life in one place. The problem is, zrAtlpT wouldn't understand. He hates all humans," she ended, a tint of bitterness in her voice.

"Doesn't he have the right to? His father abandoned him. If his father had kept him, he might have had some family to live with. Instead, he was shunned and sent to live with strangers."

zhAthulPa shook her head vigorously. "Don't you see? You're being just as close-minded as he is! It was a single human who did that to him; not the entire race. He has about as much right to blame your entire race as… Rosalie, will you be angry with me if I were to tell you something? An opinion?"

I shook my head, a little bewildered, and zhAthulPa continued on.

"I think that perhaps," she said hesitantly, "you went a bit overboard on blaming your uncle. He's not a good man, and I'm not even suggesting that he is. Maybe like zrAtlpT, you were blinded by sadness and pain, and you found it easier to place the blame somewhere it didn't belong. Maybe it was your mother's time; maybe it wasn't, but I don't think it was your uncle who killed her. And for zrAtlpT, his father certainly was awful to have abandoned him, but he's blaming far too many people. I'm sorry if that was rude. But maybe, it will make things better between you and your uncle if you stopped blaming him for that."

I was seriously contemplating being hurt or angry by her words, but I realized it was the truth. And it hurt badly. She was right. I knew she was right. It wasn't fair, though. I had to blame someone or something. I didn't want it to be Mother's fault, not did I want it to be fate. She shouldn't have died. It wasn't her time; I knew it! That's what I wanted to believe, at least. I said nothing for a while, trying to come to terms with the truth, not just what I wanted to hear.

"Have you told him yet?" I said finally.

"No," she admitted. "I've tried, many times, but I'm afraid of what it'll do to him. What if he were to cry? I've never seen him, and I never want to. I just don't want him to hate me. Not that I want you to hate me, but with you… I guess I feel like I can be honest with you and you won't mind. You're easy to talk to. Has anyone ever told you that?"

_Jerrold had_. I didn't say that thought. I remained quiet, before saying, "It stings. The truth hurts really, really badly. But it's better to face it sooner than later. I know it wasn't Uncle Edward's fault. She wanted to go. She even told me. And I just didn't want to see it because I didn't want to think that I wasn't enough. I mean… why wasn't I? Didn't she love me? Why wasn't I enough to remind her of him? I could have tried harder. I could have done and said anything that he'd said. It would be hard, but I could try. I could be funny, like he was. I look like him. You didn't know that, did you? I look just like him. And everyone says so. When she looked in my eyes, didn't she see him? Didn't she see him in me? Couldn't she hang in there for me? Couldn't the part of him in me keep her?"

I didn't burst out in sobs this time. They were quiet tears that just rolled gently down my face. They weren't the tiring type of tears that shook your frame and exhausted you until you fell asleep with puffy red eyes and a sore heart. They were refreshing, renewing.. I felt better as they tumbled down serenely.

zhAthulPa sat there silently before moving towards the door. "I'm sorry. But you're right. I hope zrAtlpT hasn't left yet. I guess I'll tell him tonight. You're right," she repeated to herself before closing the door softly behind her. I sat there for only a few minutes crying before I set my head down on the pillow and fell asleep.

-

"Really, Rosalie," zhAthulPa told me for the fifth time that next morning, "You can't leave. Why, I haven't even shown you all there is to see here! I know I told you that I want to see the world, but Mt. AphchuZ does have lots to offer!"

"I have to get home. My nursemaid, Tata, will be very worried and I love her very much. Besides, I want to try and figure out the prophecy that your grandfather gave me. I'm going to have faith that things will work out, too. _There_, are you happy now? Please don't be sad. I'll write whenever I can. I'm sure I can find a merchant headed here for your goods."

zhathulPa frowned. "Fine. I'll find as many coats for you to wear as possible," she said with a twinkle in her eyes, "I want to thank you. zrAtlpT didn't exactly take it well, but I think he'll thank me in the long run. I know he will."

I grinned. "Let me guess, you 'can tell'?"

She shrugged. "You could say that. Ooh! I have something for you. I had to coax my grandfather, but he finally agreed."

zhAthulPa scurried off into the cave, leaving me alone to bask in the marvels of the cavern for just a bit longer. Maybe I didn't have control over my future. I didn't know exactly who was going to try to take advantage of me. I did know, however that I would manage. I don't know how, but I knew that someone was looking out for me. Someday, even if it wasn't soon, things would be sunny again.

"Leaving so soon, I see," zhaNglled said softly, his granddaughter trailing behind him.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I need to get home and fac-"

"No need for explanations. Just take care of yourself and keep warm. And," he said, revealing a golden necklace, "Please take this. It's my latest work. Please accept this gift on behalf of zHathulPa, myself, and all the Gnomes here. You are very welcome to come again."

He held the necklace out to me, and I stared at it dumbly. It was a thin chain, consisting of two gold, one silver strings of metal braided together. At the bottom in an elegant holder, was a bright amethyst gem nestled between two ivory pearls. I shook my head quickly. There was no way I could accept it. It would sell for so much… I couldn't very much deprive them of such an expensive item.

"It's a friendship gift," zhAthulPa assured me, "Please take it!"

I nodded, not able to find the words.

"Thank you," I finally managed.

zhAthulPa smiled. "You have to write, like you promised. And please do visit! When it gets warmer of course. It's a sunny morning today, so I'm going to allow you to leave. But if you're still close by and it begins to cloud up, you must come back."

"Thank you," I repeated, putting the necklace on. "Thank you for everything. For taking care of me, for the necklace, for finding my pesky horse. For being my friend, most of all."

She smiled at me, her eyes sad. I fare-welled all the Gnomes, apologized to the children for the briefness of my visit, and assured everyone of my eventual return. After the women had wrapped me tightly in piles of cloaks and blankets, I managed to hobble outside. There, I saw zrAtlpT standing, holding Kummeck's reins.

"zhAthulPa likes you," he said, "She trusts you. I guess… I guess I trust you too then. Please come again. She'll miss you."

"I will," I assured him, hiding my smile. I mounted Kummeck and waved at him. Surprisingly enough, he waved back. zhAthulPa had been right. He had come to terms. So had I. And I felt better about it too. I'm sure zrAtlpT felt the same way.


	8. Mending Relationships

-

CHAPTER 7

-

MENDING RELATIONSHIPS

-

I pried at the doors of the centaur stable clumsily, my body still trembling from the earlier happenings of the day. All I knew was that Alleopes big, blank eyes were going to make everything okay. He'd understand everything. He wouldn't ask any questions. I knew that with him, I'd be safe. Not like I was at home.

I finally managed to open the doors, blindly stumbling in on feet that could barely offer support. I closed the door behind me, panting heavily. That was when I noticed it. Jerrold, rather, leaning on Alleopes stall with a basket of apples by his side. A lantern lit up his profile, illuminating his emerald eyes and the tiny freckles that dotted his face. I wondered if he had heard me. Quietly, I turned to leave. I hadn't intended to find him here, and I certainly wasn't in any condition to face him.

It was too late though. Jerrold spun around, his expression that of complete shock. He set down the apples, dedicating all his energy to staring at me. I couldn't quite decipher the look in his eyes. Was it anger? Pity, or pain perhaps? I was barely skilled at reading people, not then at least. How was I going to find out what he had to say unless I stayed? Half of me wanted to remain under his powerful gaze, while the other half wanted me to run. Before I could manage to decide, he spoke up.

"Rosalie…" he said hoarsely, "Please don't go. _Please_."

How could I? His eyes implored me to say, while his mouth formed a slight frown. I couldn't leave, no matter how hard I tried. I was betraying myself, but I walked to him and calmly stood near him. I kept a distance of a foot or two though, unsure of how he would react to my being there. That, and the fact that I wanted to stay out of the light of his lantern. I was half- hoping that the bruise on the side of my face wasn't too noticeable. The trickle of blood that came from the cut right above it wasn't exactly helping to be inconspicuous. The hood I wore shaded my face, which relieved me a bit.

Jerrold, luckily, didn't notice. He was too busy looking back at Alleopes, the expression on his face changing completely. The aggrieved expression he'd worn earlier turned wistful. He handed my centaur an apple, which was accepted with appreciation. Things had changed, I noticed. Why, not too long ago, Alleopes had hated Jerrold. The very sight of him had sent Alleopes into a fit of rage. Yes, the change was obvious. Jerrold and Alleopes had become friends, while Jerrold and I had grown apart.

"I put him in a race the other day," Jerrold said conversationally, "I hope you don't mind. I found him a good rider and trainer and in barely a week he was an awe-inspiring race-centaur. 'Amazing progress,' they told me. Never had they seen such a fast learner! It was amazing. So I thought it fitting that I enter him in some races. I bet 100 KJ's on Alleopes and he won! Isn't that grand?" He smiled widely.

I managed a small laugh. "It's amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic." My voice failed me in expressing any excitement at all. Jerrold gave me a sideways glance.

"That's not exactly what you were expecting to hear, is it?" He shook his head. "I have to admit, when it comes to apologies…"

I quickly cut him off, "I didn't come here for an apology or to be a martyr. I just didn't have anywhere else to go. You don't have to feel obligated to say anything to me."

He looked at me surprised. "I never meant… I suppose it sounded like that, didn't it? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that that's why you were here at all." He leaned against the stall, his eyes staring into space.

"I _do _have to feel obligated to say that. Apologize, I mean. I was overwhelmingly awful to you. Half of that anger; no, _eighty_ percent of that anger should never have been directed at you in the first place. You did nothing to deserve my wrath. You explained every circumstance to me, apologized about ten times, and begged for forgiveness. It was just…" He ran a hand through his wispy brown hair and sighed. I listened intently, trying not to show the pleasure and relief on my face at hearing those words spoken (not that he could see it anyways).

Jerrold continued, "I had barely woken that morning and was barely recovered from my ailments when my father called me to have a talk. I don't think I've ever told you of my father's talks, have I? (I shook my head) No, I was sure I hadn't. Father isn't a bad man, not in the least bit. Sometimes he can go a bit overboard though. I mean, really! I'm not even eighteen, and he's already lecturing me on thinking about marriage and about being king. Marriage! Can you believe that? As if the thought of it has even crossed my mind! I mean, the only girl I even care about is you and the thought of marriage…"

He shook his head and continued, now beginning to pace around the stable. "Marriage is something I don't believe I'm ready for. I don't even think I'm ready to contemplate it! But Father kept insisting that I'm 'coming of age' or some garbage like that. Hah! I was flustered then, not to mention perturbed. Then he went on to a rant about how the prince has to be a stately personage. 'He can't gallivant about town acting like a fool.' Well, he wasn't quite so blunt about it, but I knew that was what he meant. That got me angry. I'm certainly not the most serious person I know, but I'm not foolish. I'm not, _am_ I?" He pouted, his eyes begging me for an answer.

"No," I said simply.

He smiled vaguely in appreciation, before shaking his head. "You're driving me insane, Rosalie! You look like some sort of monk with that hood covering your face. I can't see your expressions as I tell my story! Are you laughing at me under there or are you cursing me to damnation? I know not! And your responses, how they vex me! Do you have anything more to say? _'No'_? What sort of response is that? I have no idea of how you feel. I'd be much happier to hear you scold me than to hear your one-word response. You still hate me; I can tell. May I finish my story? Perhaps you'll be more willing to forgive me if I finish explaining. Will you try? To forgive me, that is."

I smiled, but Jerrold could not see that. Curtly, I said, "I do not laugh at you. I don't curse you either. I am expressionless, as far as you are concerned."

"Ah! What fun you procure from my tortures! Fine, I will continue," Jerrold said, a grin seizing hold of his face, "I grew exceedingly angry at my father's unintended insults. I stormed out in the middle of his speech, which got my father mad at me. I rode to the old palace, trying to obtain some solitude. My anger grew by the moment. I couldn't help but think, 'Who is he to scold me?' Now that I think upon it, my father is extremely qualified to try to explain things to me. At the time, of course, you could never persuade me of that. Then, out of nowhere, you appeared. You looked at me with eyes full of worry and caring, and all my hateful eyes could see was someone to blame; someone to take my anger out on. You had not responded to my letters. While that had confused and upset me a little, it was not the reason why I was angry. You pleaded and begged, but I never ceased to bombard you with cruelty."

I met his eyes, which had gone from amused to cheerless in an instant. Jerrold sadly said, "Rosalie, the moment I saw I'd made you cry, I realized how awful I'd been. I never thought that I'd ever be a source of pain to you. And the thought that I'd pained you tortured _me_. I couldn't sleep that night. I couldn't sleep the night after either. I rode to your house as fast as I could and pounded on the door until I'm pretty sure your uncle was tempted to kill me. It was then that Tatiana told me you'd run away. I hated myself. So, yet again, I took my hate out on someone else. Drago, actually. Good thing is, I don't care if I hurt his feelings or him. Anyways, I still have a large amount of hatred for myself left over. I'll hate myself forever if you don't accept my apology. Come Rosalie, you can't very well live with yourself if you know that you're causing a life of self-loathing for me, can you?"

"That's just like you Jerrold," I rebuked sarcastically, "Turning your guilt into mine."

"I'm confused. Is that your sly way of accepting my apology?" Jerrold asked, furrowing his brow.

"Not exactly what I was entailing when I said that, but sure," I replied, "I accept your apology."

Jerrold stared at me for a moment, before smiling a little bit. He choked out a laugh while itching the back of his neck almost awkwardly.

"I didn't expect it to be that easy," he said slightly amazed, "I was expecting that I'd have to beg on my knees. I mean…"

I rolled my eyes, slightly annoyed. "Would you like me to still be mad?"

He chuckled good-naturedly. "No! Naturally not."

He reached to touch my arm, but I found myself recoiling from his touch. He stared at me in shock for a second before his expression turned to hurt.

"You still are angry," he mumbled. It was not a question, rather a statement.

"No…that's not it…" I whispered, "I don't feel comfortable being… touched I guess right now. It's nothing… please don't think anything of it."

I longed to tell him what had happened, but stopped in fear of his reaction. Not towards me, but rather towards Waldor. Not that I cared a bit for that brusque, disgusting pervert, but I wondered at what Jerrold would do. I hadn't come here to get him to protect me from Waldor. I had tried to protect myself. Until I could figure a plan of some sorts for revenge, I could not go home. Or as long as I was alone with him in the house. My uncle was a lout undoubtedly, but the threat that he posed to me was completely different from Waldor.

I hugged myself, trying not to remember anything about it. The circumstances could have been much more severe and I felt lucky that I had gotten away when I did. The fact that he'd managed to kiss me at all made me feel dirty and sick to the pit of my stomach. When I had resisted; well, my face could explain that well enough. However, my bruised arm and face were nothing to the fact that he'd managed to kiss me. I felt that I had been tainted. I'd never felt quite so helpless as the moment when he took me by the shoulders and pressed his awful chapped lips to me… I hated the mere thought of it; the thought that he thought that he could just come into my room and… I felt a sob erupt from me. I couldn't help but cry over it. He couldn't do that! He simply couldn't… I had to do something!

"Is there something I should know?" Jerrold demanded, taking me by the shoulders, just as Waldor had done earlier. I cried harder.

"No! Just stop… You're scaring me! Please…" I cried into my hands as I wiped at my swollen face.

He stared at me for a moment with narrowed eyes before he reached for my hood and placed it behind my disheveled locks of ebony hair. His face was placid for a moment as he looked at my face. I hung my head shamefully; shameful at the fact that I hadn't shared what happened with him and shameful that the even had happened at all. He cupped my chin with his hand, and tilted it towards his face. Every feature contradicted another. His mouth was neither frowning nor smiling, showing the least amount of emotion. But his eyes… I'd never thought that green eyes could ever look so much like fire as his did. I wasn't quite sure whether his fiery temper was directed at me or the person who'd inflicted the pain upon me.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his fists clenched. He raised his voice and continued, "And why didn't you tell me about this? Do think that even in anger I could ever see you like this and not care?"

"Independent damsels aren't supposed to need a big man to save them," I said meekly, lamely trying to make a joke of the situation. Jerrold was not amused.

"That's so… _He_ did it didn't he? Your uncle! Who I so easily excused of wrongdoing… He did this, didn't he? I'll kill him, I swear! Where is he; I vow to you-"

I pulled the hood back over my face, still mortified of how distorted it must've looked. I looked at him, my eyes sorrowful.

"Don't you see? _This _is why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd go crazy. You'll do something you'll regret," I lied, not really sure of the true reason I hadn't told him as of yet, "Besides, while I enjoy the prospect of no longer having to deal with my uncle, I cannot condemn him. It wasn't him. Please… just try to settle down. Okay?"

He patted my hand and managed a smile that seemed to burden him. I took a seat on the ground, helping myself silently to one of the apples in the basket. Jerrold knelt beside me, still quiet. He sighed after a while and looked at me, his eyes worried.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, "You should come with me to get some medical attention to those bruises. That cut doesn't look too good either. I'm sure Mandy has something that'll work wonders on all your injuries."

"_No_. Thank you, but I don't think I want to answer any of her questions. No… I'm fine where I am," I insisted, "Do you mind if I stay in here tonight? Unless there's a groom on duty, of course. I don't want to get in the way."

Jerrold replied, "Of course you can stay here. I mean, I'd very much prefer you to stay in the palace, but if this is where you want to stay, then far be it from me to stop you. You must allow me to stay with you, then. To make sure you're alright." He blushed a little, but I thought little of it.

I smiled slightly. "I'd like that."

"Well… we can't _always_ trust those independent damsels to protect themselves now, can we?" he joked. I instantly felt guilty. I'm not sure why that particular phrase made me feel that way, but I felt faultiness rising in myself.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Jerrold," I said softly, "I don't think the reason I didn't tell you was because of your reaction. I was afraid of you asking about the whole thing. I just don't really want to relive it. You know?"

Jerrold said nothing, but tossed another apple to Alleopes. He leaned on my centaur's stall before turning back to me.

"Was this (he gestured at my bruises) all that happened?" he asked, after a moment's pause. It took me a moment before I realized what he was implying. I stared at him dumbly before turning shamefully to the floor. Could he tell just by looking at me?

I remained silent, not wanting to lie, but certainly not desiring to tell the truth. I don't know what it was… I felt the need to deal with this myself. That, and the fact that I didn't want Jerrold to look at me any differently.

"I will see Mandy," I said finally, hoping that maybe acquiescing with his previous request would please him well enough.

"Oh… Well, good," he said with a smile, no longer looking gloomy, "She's got a magical touch, if you know what I mean." He sent me a wink before ushering me to the stable doors.

I raised an eyebrow and halted in place. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He grinned, scrunching his freckled nose in absolute glee. I was sure he was just doing that to get my mind of my current problems, but it _was_ diverting me a good deal.

"Promise not to tell? Of course you do… Now, there are two things to tell," he said good-naturedly, "The first of which, I could have told you before if it weren't so embarrassing. This fact has been the means of torturing me for some time… Well here it is."

Jerrold proceeded in hobbling around on one foot as he attempted to get one of his boots off. He finally got it off, holding it in the air as rags of different colored cloth fell out. Jerrold then stuck his foot out in front of me. I glanced at it, about to ask him whether he was just trying to fool me or not, but I got too caught up in giggling. Yes, I knew the saying 'Don't throw rocks when you live in a glass house' and I knew the fact that my feet were extraordinarily large, but Jerrold's were positively _tiny_! I held my stomach as I laughed before I managed to stop. Jerrold was trying to feign a look of aggravation, bet I knew he was glad to divert me.

I finally stopped giggling crazily, wiping at my eyes as I asked, "Thank you, that was very amusing, but I don't see how that is an earth-shattering secret. You have small feet… I'm sure you're not the only one in the world. I actually wish I shared in such luck."

He shook his head vigorously as he stuffed the rags back into his boot and slipped it back on. "Luck? Hah! It's awful. I use to think they'd grow, but it's hopeless. Seems people with fairy blood are stuck with feet like this… Forever, too!"

"Fairy blood," I murmured, "Is why they're so small? I think I read that somewhere-"

"I bet you did. Is that all you ever do?" he asked smugly, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"That's awesome! Are you like a quarter fairy-blood, or less? I think it's up to a fifth fairy blood that you can do miniscule amounts of magic. So… _can_ you? Do magic, I mean."

"I wish," Jerrold sighed, "But alas, I've only got a drop. So my mother tells me, at least. You'd think that something good would come from having fairy blood, but nope… I'm a magic-less, small-footed prince who has nothing but his charms and station to aide him."

"I pity you so very much, Jerrold," I said sarcastically, with a roll of my eyes.

"Yes, well, I've always been a trooper. I've survived Calantha thus far; I can boast that much, at least," he replied. "Well, I've told you one of my dark secrets, it's time to tell you the next. I'm sorry to leave you in anticipation; I know how eager you are to hear it." Jerrold grew solemn. "In all seriousness, though, this is something you can't tell _anyone_. I mean it! This does not escape us. Mandy told me that if I were to tell anyone… I shudder to think of what will happen."

"Your bravery astonishes, Jerrold. You're afraid of an elderly woman," I mocked, before replying seriously, "I won't tell anyone else. Honestly, I don't think I have anyone else to tell."

"Good, good," Jerrold mumbled to himself. "Well, Mandy, as I learned when I was twelve, isn't just our cook or my Mother's dearest companion, either. She's kind of… Well you know how I've got some fairy blood in me? Well, that's from my mother. The whole line of Eleanor have been friends of the fairies, and since I'm the son of an Eleanor that mea -"

"Mandy's a fairy!" I exclaimed abruptly.

"Exactly," Jerrold said, "Took you long enough! And _you're_ supposed to be the smart one… Humph!"

I was too busy musing about Mandy to retort. "All this time… all those knee scrapes she magically made disappear when we were children… and her amazingly good food… I should've seen it!"

"Tell me about it," Jerrold teased, "You don't know how annoying it's been keeping this to myself! Before you get all excited, she only does small magic. There's some stupid rule or another that prevents her from doing otherwise. Something about tampering with weather and floods… I don't know. So she can't make things out of thin air or anything useful like that. But she can help to heal your bruises and that cut. She's good at that. When Drago and I got in a fist fight one time, and the bruises were gone by the next day."

"I'm not worried," I retorted, "I fully trust Mandy."

"I wish you'd trust me then…" Jerrold said under his breath, then added in a different tone entirely, "Well, then, shall we?"

Jerrold put an arm around my waist as he led me out of the stables into the chilling night air. I cast a glance up into his face trying to distinguish whether he was upset with me or not. He peered back at me, raising his eyebrow as he did so. He seemed amused, curious… not mad at all. Which made me feel even exceedingly guilty as the seconds went by.

"Something the matter?" he asked, inquiringly.

Yes! Couldn't he see that? Something _was_ the matter! Why did he have to make me feel so guilty because I wasn't telling? I would but… oh there were so many stupid excuses that I had fabricated in my own mind to explain this. The truth was, I didn't want to tell in fear that I was being a coward. I wasn't really sure whether or not I could face Waldor alone if the circumstance ever came back up. But if I were to enlist in Jerrold's help… didn't that make me weak? It was terribly prideful of me, but I couldn't help it. It wasn't the right time to tell him.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, leaning my head on his shoulder with a sigh, "I really am."

"Yeah… I know," he replied softly as he pulled me a little closer to him, "C'mon. We'll see what Mandy can do."

I said nothing in response, but I felt amazingly okay for what had happened to me. Jerrold had forgiven me and I him. And for the time being, I was safe and sound with him. That was certainly enough.

----

It was probably late by the time I finally woke the finally morning. There were no windows in the stables, so no sunlight filtered in at all. I shifted uncomfortably; the position I'd slept in was kind of awkward. I was actually more sitting up than laying, and my poor neck was in a rather awkward position resting on Jerrold's shoulder… The whole situation was rather awkward to tell the truth, me sleeping with him right there. Of course when we'd spent the whole night talking and just _happened_ fall asleep like we did, it hadn't been quite so discomfiting. Waking up like that though was a bit uneasy for me, especially when Jerrold was still sleeping.

I sat there motionless for a while, simply observing the rise and fall of his chest and his peaceful face. Once again, I was thankful we were friends. I know how disgustingly sentimental it seemed, but I felt my heart swelling as I watched him, simply because I knew that once again I had a friend. Before I was tempted to gag myself because of these syrupy thoughts, I elbowed Jerrold in the ribcage to wake him. He stirred a little, before groggily stretching out and eyeing me precariously, as if I'd done something wrong.

"It's lovely to see Sleeping Beauty has awoken," I taunted, "I thought you'd never wake up…"

He yawned and hit me in the face while pretending to stretch. "Ahhh, _lovely_ sleep, that was. Yeah… right!" He rubbed his neck, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Well, did Mandy's magic work? Does my eyes look a bit better?" I asked, pointing to my face impatiently.

Jerrold tilted his head and eyed it for a moment before declaring, "It looks a good deal better. Not a bit swollen; barely purple. You look fine. No where near as bad as you looked last night."

"Thank you for your consideration," I snapped, shakily getting to my feet and flattening out my hopelessly wrinkled skirt.

"Don't mention it. Are you hungry? I could sure go for some breakfast. How about you?" Jerrold asked, putting a hand over his gurgling stomach.

"No. I think I should be getting home, anyways. Tata will worry over me and my uncle will scold… I mind as well get it over with now. I can't stay at the palace forever you know," I sighed, secretly wishing in my mind that I _could_.

"Why not? Mother absolutely adores you, and Father thinks you're a sweetheart," he replied hopefully, "Elani thinks you're the greatest thing since the printing press. Drago thinks you're… well he hates you, but no one cares what he thinks anyways. Same goes with Calantha. You **could** stay, if you wanted to."

The sappy feelings began to overtake me again, so I firmly replied, "I can't. I've got to go home."

He let out a groan and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Be that way. I've got more important things to do than spend my time with you."

"Certainly," I replied ironically, "I know you must be overwhelmed with the amount of things you have to do. I mean, you're done with lesson-taking, not currently on any military mission for your father, and you're not yet handling any affairs of state. Your list of to-do's _really_ seems to be out the door."

"As a matter of fact," he countered, "Calantha and I are scheduled to spend a day seeing works of Agulen at a gallery in Count Gerik's estate. We've been promised that we've never seen such exquisite pottery. And what exactly are _you_ doing today?"

I searched my mind for any activity that could somehow beat his, but managed to come up with nothing. Jerrold smiled superiorly. "I didn't think so."

I stuck out my tongue. "I suddenly don't like you too much. I think I'll be going, if you don't mind."

"No objections here," he replied, sending me a dirty look. I masked a smile and turned on my heel. We both were just kidding, but I didn't want to lose the game of who was a better actor.

"Good riddance," I called over my shoulder, pulling open the stable doors with an arrogant air.

"Ros-a-lie…" Jerrold beckoned as I began to leave, "Please be careful. Even the most independent of independent damsels need a bit of help now and then. And even if they ask for some help, that doesn' mean they compromise their independence. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

I tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear before repeating, "Hypothetically…"

"Yeah." He shrugged and uneasily fidgeted with his hands.

I closed the door behind me, ignoring the chill of the winter air as I began the long walk home. I had been in such a haste to get away from the manner that I had not bothered to saddle a horse to ride. Jerrold's 'hypothetical' was suddenly rendering so true in my mind, that after I had traveled more than half way home, I was tempted to return to the palace and spill every single detail. By that point however, I had finally realized that I'd stupidly forgotten my cloak in the stable. I was too far along to turn back then, for even with the high noon sun beaming down, the crisp winter air chilled me to the bone. I mentally scolded myself, angry that I was that stupid. I was only just recovering from my recent illness, and I was still extremely self-conscious about those bruises. Even though they weren't the least bit swollen, they were still black and blue. Traipsing around Frell with a few shiners on my face was not exactly on my to-do list. I hung my head a bit so raven curls covered my face and hugged my shivering body.

My manor never seemed so unwelcome before. I stood before it for a good deal of time, a little scared and unsure. I was too cold to stand in contemplation, so I made my way to the front door. I was uneasy, but mad at myself for being so. This was _my_ house. If I wanted him out, I could simply dismiss him, couldn't I? Surely, my uncle wasn't so cruel as to ignore what was right before him, was he? He couldn't look at the bruises Waldor had given me and still remain so harsh. I kept these thoughts close to me, hoping desperately that they would be so. I pulled open the door, not quite so scared. I'd tell my uncle about it all and hope he didn't think I was lying.

"Rosalie! Oh my goodness, where on earth have you been? Tatiana stayed up all night waiting for you," Lynette was rambling, clasping my hand in her own, "And then when she grew too weary, she set me to watch out for you, and I have been all day and I'm afraid your uncle will be very angry at me for not working, but he's not home yet, but Waldor is and…"

"Please don't feel the need to use a period anywhere in there," I murmured, a bit overwhelmed.

"…he told me that I'm not to watch out for you, but Tatiana did, and she's the head of the servants, but he's in charge of all the records around here and I'm afraid he might mark me down as not working and then you'll have sacrificed your entire library for nothing because I'll end up being fired anyways, and I really don't want you to have given up your books for nothing." Lynette took a deep breath and continued, "You scared me very much last night, hurrying out like you did, panting like crazy. You've been hurrying out of this manor quite frequently, disappearing for days or a night. Oh my! You're all bruised up! I'll fetch a wet-cloth right away. They don't seem too swollen, but it might help them to feel a bit better. How on earth di-"

"Lynette! You insolent dolt! Did I not tell you an hour ago that you should _get back to work_? You certainly will receive a punishment for being so insubordinate," a harsh voice was saying behind us. I started to shake from anger, instantly knowing who it was.

"Oh no!" she squealed, pivoting on her heel to face the hideous brute, "I'm very, very sorry; as sorry as a person could ever be. You must understand sir, that Tatiana instructed me to stay here no matter-"

"Don't waste your breath, Lynette. You were only doing as instructed. Trust someone like _him_ to punish an employee for doing right. Really… what foolishness!" I placed a hand on my hip and glared him down. He simply smiled.

Lynette looked up at me, her big, brown eyes wide with astonishment and admiration. She lowered her eyes and docilely slipped past Waldor, glancing back now and then to send me a grin as she skipped down the hall.

"You're very… spirited," Waldor said finally, his grin malevolent, "And beautiful. So beautiful…" He lifted a hand to caress my face, but I batted it away angrily.

"Beauty is only skin deep, you know. What's on the inside is what really matters. But for you, your inner and outer appearances match. They're both _hideous_," I hissed, pushing past him into the sitting room.

He followed me, closing the door behind him as he did so. My heart began to race a little faster, and I wished that Lynette hadn't left my side.

"That hurt, Rosalie," he said, feigning an offended look, before forcefully tilting my chin toward him. "I thought you might have learned your lesson for such cheekiness last night."

I stared defiantly at him before snapping, "That wasn't for cheekiness. That was for breaking away when you _kissed_ me. There's a bit of a difference, if you hadn't quite noticed."

"You're clever. You're not some idiotic beauty like most of the other girls your age," he commented, "Though I suppose it would be better if you were."

I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he was getting at. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"It's all the easier to take advantage of a stupid girl," he replied, watching with satisfaction as my countenance morphed into one of pure disgust.

"I suppose you make a business of it then. Taking advantage of young girls, I mean. I thought you were awful and perverted enough for trying it with me, but if there have been girls before me…" I thought of the poor girls, who might have ended up worse off than I did. I felt like crying for them because I knew exactly how awful and scared they must have felt. I shook with anger.

"You're an awful, awful person! You deserve to be thrown in the dungeons. To think my uncle hired you… surely he must have known your past, and yet he hired you anyways. Old buddies, I suppose. He's worse than I thought… so much worse. To put me at risk, to put all the servant girls at risk! It's sick! This whole… everything is disgusting. You and him, plotting together how to break me; how to make me cry. I'm not broken! You haven't broken me. I'm not afraid to tell someone about you. I haven't told Prince Jerrold yet, but I will. It's not my fault this happened. I'm not weak." I found myself crying now with fury, wanting to hurt him so badly that I, to this day, don't know how I possibly contained myself.

"You know, you're very pretty when you're ang-"

"Stop it! Don't tell me I'm pretty. Don't say anything to me! I don't care if you think I'm gorgeous. I don't care! I don't want to hear it. Leave me alone! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

At the exact moment I began to shout that, almost like clockwork, Tata opened the door with Lynette and Jerrold standing behind her, all of them ogling at me. Waldor sent me a horrified look, but I couldn't have felt any better under the circumstances.

"You forgot your cloak," Jerrold said slowly, after a moment of silence. He quickly threw the cloak down and marched up to Waldor, his eyes consumed with anger. He looked very tall, standing so straight and rigid that it gave the illusion that he was towering over Waldor, when in truth he had a few inches on him at the most. Lynette scurried over to me, putting a comforting arm around my middle because she wasn't quite tall enough to put her arms around my shoulders.

"_You_… I knew that it had to be someone at her house. You're Waldor aren't you? I should've known… Rosalie has talked about you before; how she gets an unsettling feeling when you're near. I guess there's a reason, eh? So you think it's okay to beat up on a girl that's half you're age? Do you think that makes you strong? You can bruise her, and cut her, and that makes you a big man, doesn't it? _Doesn't it_?"

"Your highness… really, you've quite misunderstood what Rosalie here was saying," Waldor mumbled nervously.

"Have I? Rosalie, _have_ I?" Jerrold looked at me for a moment, and I met his eyes, before casting them downwards. I shook my head slowly, before softly saying, "I'm sorry." I don't think Jerrold heard me, for he was too busy diving at Waldor, furiously punching him over and over again. Tata stood still for a moment, looking from me to Jerrold, then back to me with a hand over her heart. She hurried to peel Jerrold off of Waldor, but was having little luck. I started slowly approaching the two men trying to pull them apart, but grew too nervous of getting hit by one of the flying fists. Lynette was standing behind me, clasping her hands and sighing.

"Isn't that romantic? They're fighting over you!" she squealed. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry over her naiveté.

"It's not romantic at all! They're not fighting for my hand or anything remotely dreamy like that! Jerrold is just beating him up. Oh! I'm afraid he'll get hurt, and it'll be all my fault because I didn't tell him in the first place!" I cringed at every punch sent to Jerrold's face, and trembled as he staggered.

"You two, this is not resolving anything! Really, the two of you fighting like madmen isn't going to change what's happened! Prince Jerrold, your highness, you're heart really is in the right place, dear, but you're only upsetting Rosalie further," Tata scolded, finally in between Jerrold and Waldor, who were panting. "Lynette, go ask Ollo for a piece of steak to help put down the swelling. Highness, please take a seat. Lynette, hold on! Fetch Prince Jerrold some water. As for you, Waldor, we'll see what happens when Master Edward returns. I hope you won't mind to share what you know of the story, your highness.

"As for you, Rosalie, it's up to your room for you. This is too much excitement for someone in you right now. Go rest… my, my, my… Kyrria knows you've been to hell and back in these past months. Go, go! We'll handle everything. _Go!_"

I exited the room, a little bit angry. I felt like some stupid, meek maiden who had to sit silently as everyone else took care of her problems. I didn't want the men to take care of it, nor did I want Tata to handle it. I wanted to apologize to Jerrold and tell my uncle the truth of what happened; the truth of Waldor's past that he had told me himself. My uncle probably knew about that already. I went up the stairs without voicing this, but I felt angry with myself. I was being stupid and silent, just as I had been to Jerrold the night before. I should have told him the truth when I had the chance. Now he had found out… like _this_ and he was probably hurt because I was an idiot. I felt like one of those girls in the books, who sat around, fawning over themselves while men fought over her (or for her, in my case, as I had told Lynette). I had always hated those stupid, vain girls who didn't care for anyone else. That was me! I was that girl… that prideful girl who didn't tell the truth when she could've.

I locked myself in my room, scolding myself for hours upon hours. I kept thinking about Jerrold and how he was hurt. I paced around, putting my ear to the floorboard every now and then to see if I could hear anything that was going on. There was nothing. For a long while, I sat miserably, thinking of what the King and Queen would think of me. I played the scene in my head: Jerrold arriving home all beat up and bruised. Queen Ella saying to King Charmont , "That Rosalie girl is always getting our Jerrold into trouble, isn't she?" King Charmont would nod in agreement, replying, "Yes, first the time she lit his ball apparel on fire when she was 12, then she neglects his letters, and now _this_! What an awful, awful girl!" And I _was_ an awful, awful, awful, awful…

"ROSALIE! Open your window! C'mon…"

I looked up, alert and scurried over to the window, pushing it open. Jerrold was at the bottom, his light brown locks in complete disarray, but his green eyes shining happily. He had a bloody lip; I could tell so even from my window. He had only one apparent bruise that formed a dark purple ring around his eye. I felt sick to my stomach.

"I'm not worthy to be spoken to," I replied, distraughtly.

He made a "pfshaw" sound and smiled, thought I saw him cringe a bit. He put a hand up to his bruise but quickly lowered it.

"You're so funny Rosalie… really! I'm not angry. A little disappointed that you didn't trust me, but you know… I'll live," he grinned and continued, "I just wanted to let you know that I banished Waldor from Kyrria. My knights arrived to take him away just a while ago. I'm afraid I went far too easy on him… a year in the dungeons and banishment… should I have been more severe? Well, I'm going to make sure he never gets another job in my country for the rest of his life. That much I can promise you."

I stared at him for a moment, before smiling. "Jerrold…" I couldn't quite think of another thing to say.

He winked at me, and waved as he led his horse away to the main road. How quickly he could go from angry to calm, I mused, And how much he did for me. And what a stupid ingrate I was. I sighed, simply happy the ordeal was over. I still had the nagging though about the King and Queen, but I really wasn't quite so obsessed with it. Waldor was gone, banished from Kyrria forever. It was harsh; very harsh, but I didn't pity him. He was still a disgusting brute, and he always would be. I just didn't have to think about him anymore. That was certainly a relief.

Soon after, there was a knock on the door, and Tata entered. She bustled around, fixing my bed up and tidying the few books I had lying around and straightening the painting that hung on my wall. She did this silently, which made me nervous. She was either very mad or… I wasn't quite certain. I watched her nervously.

Finally, she said, "Your uncle just arrived home. He wanted to see you, but I insisted it was not a proper time. He's not pleased, Rosalie."

"I didn't imagine he would be," I replied. Quite frankly, I had never started to worry of what my uncle would do to me when the whole thing was over. Knowing him, he'd probably blame me. Or maybe I was too busy blaming him again…

"Well, we'll see how things work out," Tata sighed, "I'm growing far too tired of these trifling fights you and your uncle have. You're both wearing each other out. By the time you're eighteen, you'll have gray hairs and your uncle's head will be entirely white!"

"He knows what happened, doesn't he?" I asked curiously.

"As much as he would listen to. He didn't seem too interested…" She shrugged. "If he doesn't care, then there's no way you can make him."

I grumbled, hating the truth in that. So he _was_ callous and unfeeling. This certainly was not going to make my life any easier.

----

Before I told this part of the story, of course, I took into account the blissful innocence of these children, even up to Tanya, and revised the original happenings considerably. Waldor's betrayal of my uncle through theft was enough to make them believe my uncle had discarded him. I was somewhat unsure of how to resolve the fight between Jerrold and I, but I went with a guess from Tanya. I informed them that he came beneath my window and begged countless hours for my forgiveness. Jerrold would never have stood beneath my window for hours while apologizing; it was utterly too romantic for him to do. He probably would have climbed up the lattice after five minutes, insisting that I stop being so sensitive.

That response, however satisfied Lily and Tanya's thirst for romance and succeeded in boring poor Marcus half to death. However, it was much… _different_ from what had really happened. Perhaps not better, because I was not so romantic as the little girls. It altered my story completely and lessened the impact of that horrible man on my life, but I did it because I had to. Lily and Tanya were still interested, so I continued on, quite sure that I would not have to edit any other parts of my story.


	9. A Ball

**A/N-** Not a new chapter… lol. I deleted it and then I went to read the reviews ad there were no flames( from what I saw so far at least). I was surprised. Some people actually liked it. So it's back up here. Besides, some of the characters I was going to incorporate later so I'm glad I don't have to re-introduce them.

-

CHAPTER 8

-

A BALL

-

For a short, blissfully wonderful time, things were back to normal. Jerrold and I were best friends again, and I no longer had to worry about Waldor. My uncle, of course, was still there, though he wasn't quite as awful as usual. However, being the unbearable lout he was, he couldn't actually be a normal person for just a little while. He had to take the low road and give _me_ the silent treatment. Usually, my uncle not talking to me wouldn't bother me at all. It'd actually be a relief. But it was the principle of the matter that was driving me insane. He was giving _me_ the silent treatment because _his_ awful friend decided to assault me? The whole thing made absolutely no sense to me, and I made sure that my uncle knew that. Bothering him about how morally wrong his behavior was didn't really seem to help much, but it was all I could do to stop myself from going insane. Tata told me I was something else, but I was pretty sure it was Uncle Edward who was 'something else'.

But during those infuriating times, Jerrold was there to laugh at me and my indignation over the whole ordeal. For some reason, his finding amusement in my little plight was different that Tata finding amusement in it. He would simply poke fun, whereas Tata would chastise. And for yet another reason unknown to me, that was okay. I suppose it was simply because I was more than happy just to have him back as my friend. But, as all good things in my life eventually were, Jerrold was once again whisked away from me. It seemed that the Count of Tyrana had passed away, and his twenty-one year old son, Ian, was assuming the title. Whenever something exciting happened to a personage of high blood (I barely thought the death of one's father could qualify as such), any noble of good manners would go to court and celebrate with all the other courtiers. It was a custom that had been started in Kyrria centuries ago, and the young Count decided to share the wonderful news of his new role with the King and Queen. Jerrold was chosen by his parents to be the diplomat and welcome the count and his sister, Marla, to Frell.

The dubious task actually involved far more than simply welcoming them. Jerrold spent nearly every waking moment entertaining the guests, and very little time with me. And yes, I _did _try to join the little party and help to amuse Ian and Marla. It seemed Calantha had beaten me to it, though, and she had presumable used her head start to turn Ian and Marla against me. That's the only reason I could come up with for why the Count and his sister acted so coldly towards me. On my short quest to become one of their company, Jerrold seemed to ignore the icy tones of their voices and the harsh glares they sent me as if it were nothing. I was certain he must have seen the looks and heard the words, but he certainly wasn't acting on it at all. Feeling slighted, I decided not to tag along with them again.

So, for the duration of two weeks, I saw little of Jerrold; mostly none of him. During my solitude, I spent much of my time scavenging the manor for any and all books my uncle might have missed. I happened upon a few, and to my luck, they were usually favorites of my parents. They were books that had been taken from the library and had been read over and over, never finding their way back to the shelves where they belonged. That did not occupy all of my time, so I tagged along with Lynette, Tat, and sometimes Bryant, our stable boy (though he wasn't really a boy, considering he was almost 25). I wanted to try to learn to cook, but it seemed Ollo wasn't very open to the idea.

During these weeks, I also saw many of the woods around my home being torn and cut down to make room for the plantation my uncle had schemed up. I was pretty sure that (yes, I'm about to use Tata's words) my parents were indeed rolling in their graves. The beauty that our land had once possessed was rapidly being destroyed, and all for the profit of Edward. It seemed that I was helpless once again. The reality of that fact that I would have no say until I was eighteen was sinking in more so than ever before. And I hated it. But it seemed that soon, things were about to get… dare I say _different_. Not particularly good, but not bad. I guess sometimes, balls can be a bit of both.

----

It had been on a Thursday morning that we had received an invitation to the ball. A royal page, no more than twelve years old, had come to our door and regally announced that my uncle and I were invited to a ball celebrating the arrival of the Devlin, Duke of Thoribrooke, Marquis of Limyratin, Earl of Bast, and nephew of his majesty, King Charmont. The amount of titles had almost made me gag, but my uncle could not be more pleased. From that second on, everything was in preparation for the ball the next evening. Every measure was taken to make my uncle look as if he were the richest in the land. I was made to go, though the idea of a ball with Jerrold occupied elsewhere barely seemed endearing. Nevertheless, I bought a gown that was the perfect compromise of simple and elegant, piled my curls on the top of my head, and descended the stairs, ready for the evening that awaited me.

"You look lovely, dear," Tata whispered, ushering me out of the front door of the manor, "Now mind your behavior! I don't want to hear that you managed to tear your dress again, sliding down the banisters like a wild-woman!"

Lynette giggled and grinned so widely I thought her face was going to split. "You look gorgeous! You're so lucky! I wish I were invited to a royal function. Imagine how glamorous…"

Tata rolled her eyes, though she had a slight smile on her face. "As if the royals want a little wisp of a thing like you running rampant around the palace! They've already got Rosalie, and I think she's quite enough!"

Edward stood impatiently by the carriage, not caring to divulge in our little conversation. He was too busy tapping his heel as if every second counted.

"You know," he warned, his gray eyes flashing, "_someone_ is going to make me late, and that won't make me very happy. Maybe that _someone_ should hurry up a bit or I might just marry them off to the Earl of Wolleck. I hear he's _still_ searching for a bride."

I cut in front of him and climbed into the carriage, not bothering to give him a glance. Two could play _that_ game. Edward climbed in, glaring at me with his stony eyes. Then he grinned suddenly, which was never a good thing.

"You look nice. Perhaps the king's nephew will take notice of you. I hear apart from the prince, he's the richest fellow in the country. Not that it isn't obvious. How can you not be rich when you've got as many titles as he has?" Edward ran his tongue over his teeth as he examined himself in the carriage window. "Or maybe, you've already got a young man on your mind. Maybe the prince has stolen your heart, eh? You most certainly have his."

I stared at him, appalled for a moment, before taunting, "You talked to me! Haha! You broke your silent treatment. I win!" With that, I smugly stared out the window at the passing scenery, contemplating where on earth my uncle could have gotten the idea that I had Prince Jerrold's heart. _Honestly_…

"I think it's sweet, how both of you are clueless about the whole thing," Edward pursued, "I mean, why else would he care about what happened with Wal-"

"Because anyone with common decency would care that something like that was going on! Just because Jerrold wanted to help me doesn't mean he loves me, alright?" I rebuked with anger. That he had the nerve to bring up Waldor astounded me.

"Why does it bother you so? Do you really not love the prince? I think that would strike him as a surprise. The prince suffering from a love unrequited… a love unreciprocated by _my_ niece. That amuses me so. You're the only girl in the whole kingdom that could find it insulting that the _prince_, of all people, loves them. Even if you don't love him, you'd be a fool not to accept his hand." Uncle Edward scratched his chin for a moment, as if he were considering something. "I could make millions of KJ's with the royal name linked to my own…"

I groaned. "Would you drop it? We're only friends, and as of right now, he can't even spare two minutes for me. I wouldn't be counting your chickens yet, Uncle, if you get my meaning."

For the rest of the short, very bumpy ride, we sat in silence, as I tried to ignore my uncle's meaningful looks. Very soon, we arrived at the castle, which had bright flags soaring in the colors of the setting sun. Of course, as it always was at such occasions, we had to wait in a queue of carriages as they emptied their passengers into the castle. For thirty minutes, I had to listen to my uncle compare how old and dingy our carriage was compared to the one in front of ours, or how the one behind ours was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. I imagined things would only get worse when we got into the ballroom. He'd probably be judging every count, earl, marquis, duke, and baron, and their wives, too!

Finally, the doors of our carriage were pulled open, and a doorman with a tunic with the crest of Kyrria on it bowed slightly to us. My uncle tugged me along by the hand as if I were two, complaining that no one paid attention to who was coming in after the first twenty nobles. Obviously, he was aiming to be the center of attention. We entered the front doors, and descended ten stairs to where a man was announcing the names of everyone who entered. Strutting arrogantly, my uncle approached him and whispered very lowly the titles that we were to be called.

"Duke Edward III and heir to the title of Duchess, Rosalie Margaret," the man announced in a deep booming voice.

The ballroom was always beautiful, but tonight it looked exceptional. Adorning the walls were tapestries I assumed were reserved for such occasions as a ball. The chandeliers hung from the ceiling, giving the ballroom a soft glow. I could see into the next room, where there appeared to be tables with white tablecloths. I could only imagine the delicious foods they'd have. It would take much restraint not to wander into there… Instead of thinking about the food I decided to look for people I knew. Among the sea of nobles who had preceded us, I managed to find Princess Elani, who was dragging around an annoyed Prince Drago by the wrist. I couldn't help but grin at that. I couldn't find Jerrold, but awaiting us at the bottom of the stairs were King Charmont and Queen Ella. The King was dressed in white and yellow, in an obviously expensive doublet. Queen Ella looked very pretty in a forest green dress that lit up her eyes.

"Your majesties," Edward said in a very dull voice, bowing deeply to both of them. King Charmont replied by bowing his neck and shoulders, and Queen Ella gave a curt nod. My uncle sort of marched off, obviously not pleased by not being verbally acknowledged.

"Rosalie! You look wonderful," Ella said with a grin, taking my hands into her own, "Jerrold will be so excited to see you here. He was worried you wouldn't come. He told me you hate these sort of things."

I blushed a little, but King Charmont cut in saying, "Who in the right mind doesn't? I just thought it would be the proper thing to do to welcome my nephew. Speaking of which, where is that boy?" With that, he set off to look for him.

"I'm sure I'll have a good time," I lied, smiling at the queen. "I'm very sorry I… er, _missed_ you at the funeral. I was unaware of how important being there really was. It was very rude of me."

"I know how hard it can be," she condoned, "Wouldn't we all rather slide down banisters than face the awful truth?"

I bit my lip, hoping the queen didn't think I didn't regret not being there. "Jerrold told you about that? You must think I have no respect for my mother."

"Nonsense," Queen Ella insisted, "You love your mother very much! Now, you must tell me what has been going on all these months." She got very close to me and whispered to me, "Has your uncle been treating you alright?"

I couldn't help but smile. Jerrold was most definitely Ella's son. He had her warmth and compassion, and her eyes too.

"Things have been tolerable. I haven't cracked yet," I replied, being completely honest, "Let's just say I'll be glad when I turn eighteen and the title and manor are all mine. I know this may sound unappreciative, but the first thing I'll do is kick Edward out!"

"That's my girl! Ah, Devlin, come meet Rosalie!" Ella exclaimed to a tall, lanky boy King Charmont was leading over. He looked rather unexcited about the ball; his entire appearance showed it. His tawny hair was all disheveled, and the buttons on his shirt were half undone. He was observing his surroundings with dull brown eyes. We met eyes for a second, and he started grinning.

"It can't be!" he exclaimed, "You're the girl… Jerrold's friend who used to slide down the banisters and who set him on fire that one time, right?"

King Charmont laughed, grinning widely. "I remember that!"

"Does everybody _have_ to remember?" I whined, not managing to hide my grin. Devlin was still staring at me, and something about him seemed vaguely familiar. He offered me his arm, and for a moment , I stared at him stupidly before realizing what he was implying. With a quick curtsy to the king and queen, I accepted his arm and we set off into the crowd.

"Do you remember me?" he asked after a while. I looked up into his face, searching for some memory. He was not too familiar, but it was as if I'd seen him before but I couldn't place it. He wasn't especially handsome; not to be rude, but he was just average. Not like King Charmont or Drago were handsome and not like Jerrold.

"Not particularly," I replied furrowing my brow, as we meandered to a couple of seats that were placed against a wall. "I mean, yes I do, but not well. You must have been at the ball, I guess, because you saw the coat-tail incident." I grinned at him, then added, "Purely accidental, I assure you."

Devlin smiled back. "Yes, I was there. Mother wouldn't let me tag along with you two. I wanted to badly. You looked as if you were having so much fun."

I looked wistfully out at eh dance floor, where couples were twirling around. "We did have so much fun. We always did."

"Ah, I see you're using 'did' instead of 'do'," he observed, "What? Did the two of you have a falling out? It didn't seem like it the way Ella was joking with you. Do his parents not know?"

"We're still friends!" I declared, almost angrily, "I just meant that we always did, and that there's only been one ball since then, and that was when I was fourteen. We still _do_ have fun. I can't say we will at this ball, but that doesn't mean we're not friends. Because we are."

Devlin shrugged a shoulder. "That's how it seemed."

I furrowed my eyebrows and insisted, "Well, you're wrong." And that was the conclusion of that subject. I didn't say anything for a while, too annoyed with him to continue. How could he be so rude? It seemed everyone had to have their opinion of Jerrold and I. Why couldn't we just be friends and that be the end of it?

After a while, Devlin spoke again, "I hear your mother died. I'm sorry. I know how that feels."

I looked up, my exasperation with him fading quite a bit. "You do? Is your mother dead?"

Devlin shook his head, further mussing his hair. "My father. Really, I doubt it's the same at all. You and your mother were probably close right?"

He didn't give me any time to respond before continuing, "Yes, well, my father and I were not close at all. He wanted me to be something I couldn't and wasn't going to become. He wanted some brave warrior, not a scholar. Sometimes, he threatened giving my younger brother all his titles. Mother wouldn't let him though. Have you met my mother?"

I raised an eyebrow. Devlin's constant changing of subjects was getting a little tiresome. Patiently, though, I replied, "I don't believe so."

"Oh. She's Uncle Char's nearest sibling in age. Her name is Cecilia. She's very nice, but sometimes a bit controlling." Devlin stopped talking after that, leaving me to wonder why he thought I needed to know whether or not his mother was controlling.

"So you're a scholar, eh?" I asked, hoping to get him engaged in a topic, "What's your favorite subject? Arithmetic, Science, English, or Foreign Languages?"

Devlin looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "All of them. I'm pretty good at everything except Foreign Languages. I'm not really that interested in them. I don't plan on moving to any other countries, so why bother learning them?"

"Because sometimes, it's nice to learn about other cultures," I snapped, for some reason getting very passionate about languages, "Besides, there are many different races living in our own country. Why not try to reach out to them?"

"I don't know," he replied, nonchalantly as he slumped into the chair, "It's such a long process to learn another language. Usually I get things so quickly, but not with that."

I crossed my arms, not really liking his response. My eyes wandered back out into the crowd… Where was Jerrold?

"I see you're keeping the prince's cousin to yourself, Rosalie," the lavishly accented voice of Calantha cut in. She looked rather like she had fallen into a vat of glue and then rolled around in ribbons. Her dress was the frilliest thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. Strutting as if she owned the place, she approached Devlin and I, smiling so as to hide some nasty ulterior motive. I hated to admit that despite that, she looked rather pretty when she smiled.

"No one's keeping me anywhere," Devlin barked, standing up so to tower the petite princess, "Why do you care? You've already got your claws into Jerrold. You know, you can't have the both of us on your arm all evening."

I stared at Devlin with a sudden new respect. Jerrold would never talk to Calantha in such a way. I wasn't sure whether it was that he was too polite or that he was just afraid to get her mad. Still, I was proud of Devlin for being the first to stand up to her. It was sort of funny that a girl that Jerrold was taller, bigger, and most certainly smarter than bossed him around. Calantha was taken aback too, and started to make her lower lip tremble.

"I… I never meant that," Calantha pouted, "I just wanted to say good evening to you both."

Devlin rolled his eyes. "Sure. Well, it will be great once I get away from you. Annoying brat…"

I watched him disappear behind a group of elderly women. Now I was stuck with Calantha. Just my luck…

"So, Rosalie, I haven't seen you lately. Where have you been?" she inquired, the tone of her voice a little too sweet.

'Not with you, luckily,' I wished I could reply, but the best I could manage was, "I've been a bit busy."

"It's a shame you haven't been spending more time with Jerrold," she sighed, "But I suppose that if he really had wanted to see you he would go along and see you. I guess that he just would rather spend his time with me. And the count and Marla of course."

"It seems like you're going to lengths to try to prove to yourself Jerrold prefers you," I retorted, trying not to let my irritation ruin my calm and even tone, "You know, it's pathetic that you have to come over here and say that to make you feel special." I turned on my heel, feeling a weight lifted off me to finally have said that.

"I suppose you're right."

I turned around, to see Calantha looking defeated. In shock, I asked, "I am? I mean, _of course_ I am."

She shrugged a shoulder, and turned her baby blue eyes up to look at me. "Jerrold does prefer you to me. But it's not a mistress I'm looking to be."

"What do you mean? You think _I_ want to be a mistress? Calantha, you really ought to try to make some sense," I rejoined, feeling an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

"Well, you're making some progress. Don't think I didn't see you that one night. Your hood didn't throw me off. I saw you and Jerrold go into the stable. And I stayed up until twelve o'clock waiting for him to come out, but he never did," she said in a lowly voice, "And Marla and Ian know, too, so you're little good- girl façade you put on for the queen won't work with them."

I stared at her for a moment in horror. "You've got it all wrong," I mumbled, feeling tears welling up in my eyes, "That's not what happened. How could you tell them something you don't even know about?"

"It seemed obvious enough to me," she shrugged, "Aw-ww, I hope I didn't get you _too_ upset. Don't worry, I'm sure half the court still doesn't know."

I turned around again, running into the crowd. It seemed every face that looked at me was judging. I couldn't believe that anyone would actually listen to what Calantha had said. Certainly they knew it couldn't be true. Still, she had said that half of the courtiers had been told. I barely knew five nobles, much less half the court! How could they ever know that she was just a liar? They couldn't. The word of a princess was regarded much higher than that of a Duchess. I felt angry and hateful and I wanted nothing more than to slap her across the face. If they had thought I was a bit unbehaved before, what would people think of me now?

I retired to the terrace, where the music was faint and I could sit and think for a while. Maybe I would just stay out there the whole ball. There was nothing waiting for me inside. Jerrold was nowhere to be found, and I'm sure if he was, it would be with Calantha by his side. I wondered if I could sneak off to the stables and visit Alleopes. Or perhaps I could just go home. My uncle wouldn't care. He'd leave without me in a moment's time. It made sense to do that. I wanted nothing more of that ball, and nothing more of Calantha. I could make it home by eight if I ditched my heels. The long walk home would be enough time for me to vent my anger before I thought of ways to punish Calantha for being the awful little thing she was.

I sat on a bench for just a short while longer, enjoying the beautiful evening. It _could_ have been a great night. The music was beautiful and the dancing couples looked lovely. I could only imagine how perfect the banister looked, all glossy and begging to be slid on. The _whoosh_ of sliding down rails was something I missed. How long had it been? A couple of months at least. How I longed to slide…

"Care to dance?" I looked up, not able to restrain myself from groaning. (It wasn't too loudly, though.) The young man grabbed my hand and kissed it.

"I'm sorry," I lied, and not very convincingly, "My feet are killing me."

"The lady has already tired of dancing so early in the evening?"

I wondered if anyone actually found that charming. "Yes, 'the lady' has. If you'd really like to, you may sit here."

"Can I not persuade you to dance?" The man was obviously not going to take no for an answer.

"If this particular young lady doesn't want to dance, than I assure you, my good fellow, there will be no getting her on the floor tonight. I wouldn't waste my time on her. There are plenty of other young ladies."

The determined young man and I both looked over to see Jerrold strolling casually onto the terrace. He looked almost _too_ perfect, sort of like those annoyingly handsome and charming princes you hear about in fairy tales. Jerrold was real, though, and the sight of him made me feel very happy for a second. That was before I realized that I should probably be mad at him after the way he had ignored me. How could he blow me off for _her_?

"Of course, your highness," the man mumbled, "Plenty of other women…"

I watched the young man go, and almost regretted not dancing with him. Jerrold was smiling, oblivious to what his _friend_ Calanthahad said about me, and I had to sit there and act like everything was okay. I couldn't tell him about it, because that'd just be embarrassing. Even being with him then made me feel squirmy, angry, and confused.

"I'm a waste of time, I see?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

Jerrold laughed and took a seat next to me. "Certainly not. But that's the only way I was going to get him to leave."

I avoided his eyes, feeling too awkward to look at him. "You could say 'Boo!' and he'd leave without arguing."

"All too true…" he agreed, his voice filled with laughter, before taking a different tone. "Why haven't I seen you for the last few weeks?"

I raised my eyes to glare at him defiantly. "I don't know. Perhaps you could explain that to _me_."

"Explain it to _you_? You're the one who suddenly disappeared without so much as a hello or goodbye!" he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So it comes back to me? And this is from the boy… er, man… _person _who takes orders from an idiotic princess who hates anyone who even tries to talk to you!" I cried, not really sure how any of this had to do with anything. It didn't really need to. I just wanted to get all my anger and hurt and loneliness off of my chest.

Jerrold was nodded knowingly when I looked back at him. He narrowed his eyes, "Of course. That's what this is all about. You're… you know, I never expected this from you! You're jealous, aren't you?"

I opened my mouth, trying to appear scandalized before stomping down the steps of the terrace into the garden. It was lighted by candles and looked especially beautiful with the fountain trickling in the middle of it. Of course, I was too busy storming off to notice the serenity of things in much detail. Jerrold followed, trying to get a look at my face.

"That's right, isn't it? Do you really think that I like her better than you? Did you actually go over that in your head and think about it for a second? It's insane!"

"No it's not!" I huffed, turning on my heel to stare him in the eyes, "Not when you spend every waking hour doing what she says, or listening to her, or not defending me when she says things that aren't true. It's not crazy when you ignore me when you're around her! Devlin stood up to her, and he barely knows her. But you've known her for months and you just take whatever she throws at you. It's stupid. You're stupid!"

He looked at me for a moment, an almost hurt expression on his face, before he broke out into peals of laughter. I was almost on the verge of tears, and he was just standing there, laughing! How could he laugh at hurting me, listening to the little demon princess, and everything that went along with that. I wanted to kick him in the shin or throw some sort of drink in his face. Unfortunately, I didn't have any drink and my high heels were open toed, so I'd end up stubbing my toes if I kicked him.

"I'd slap you if I didn't know Calantha would spread it around the palace in five minutes," I whispered vehemently, "I'm going back to the ball."

"Don't! I'm sorry…" Jerrold pleaded, catching me by the wrist, "It's just that it's a bit funny that you really are so emotional about this. Don't you think it's a bit silly that we're fighting again?"

I cocked my head to the side, trying to look thoughtful. "Just because we just got in a fight doesn't mean that I'm just going to stop caring about this! That doesn't change anything!"

Jerrold shook his head, laughing faintly. "You don't let things go, do you? That's so… Rosalie-ish of you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry that I have that Rosalie-ish trait, but it's barely something I can help. That's who I am."

Jerrold shook his head in frustration. "That's who you are? Your entire character is that you can't just let things go? Wow… For all this time I thought there was more to you. Perhaps something like intelligence or kindness. I guess I was mistaken." He walked past me, barely skimming my arm. I stared at him dumbly for a moment, watching as he left. He cast me a glance over his shoulder, his emerald eyes piercing mine, then disappeared out of sight.

For a moment I stood there, frozen in place, not sure how any of it started, only knowing that now we were fighting again. Of course, then it hit me how it had started. I had been selfish and childish. And he had been right all along. We had known each other for ages, played together as children, dealt with the same strict tutor, and shared our secrets since the moments we met. Why hadn't I seen it when we were fighting? It always had to be after I'd succeeded in upsetting someone that I realized how dumb I'd been. Sulkily, I climbed the steps to the terrace, hoping Jerrold was there, but knowing that he wouldn't be.

I sat on the bench for a while, reliving our argument. Stupid mouth of mine… I knew that it was only a petty argument and that we'd get over it, but the night was ruined. I had let my anger at Calantha get between Jerrold and I. It was a real shame things took such a bad turn. I had been half excited about going to a ball all dolled up, though I didn't like admitting it. I rested my chin in my palm, feeling utterly morbid.

"So, when are you and Jerrold going to slide down the banister? This time mother's not here to stop me. I'll have as much fun as I please," Devlin cut in.

I looked up at Jerrold's enthusiastic cousin, fighting the urge to tell him to stop acting as if he were two. He had to be at least nineteen. He sure didn't act like it.

"Devlin," I started, in a condescending tone, "I am not a silly little girl anymore, and I don't want to slide down any banisters tonight. I was just foolish then and now I'm older, and I don't want to make a fool of myself, as I have such an awful knack of doing."

His formerly cheerful face fell. "I thought you didn't care about that sort of thing. I guess you're just as bad as Calantha. No wonder Jerrold doesn't like you anymore."

I narrowed my eyes, and marched up to him, looking him straight in the eyes. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I raised a hand up menacingly, right to the side of his face. Then I tapped his shoulder. He let out a sigh, obviously thinking that I was going to slap him.

"You're **_it_**." I said, challenging him with my eyes. Devlin smiled, and his dull eyes took on a bit of life.

"Are you serious? You want me to chase you around in our ball apparel?" Devlin asked scratching at his disheveled head of hair, "I thought you were above that."

"Well, I decided that I don't want to be compared to Calantha. So I'm willing to take drastic measures to ensure that doesn't happen ever again," I replied, returning his smile with a little hesitance. 'And Jerrold does like me,' I added in my head, 'I hope he still does, at least.'

Devlin was still grinning. "So, when are you going to start running? Do you want a head start?"

I wrinkled my nose. "How about we start… _oh my gosh_! Look, there's a dragon on the loose!"

Being the gullible fellow he was, Devlin looked over, his eyes wide with fear. So I started off, not sure why I cared what Devlin thought. Nonetheless, I was shoving past discerning nobles and through the middle of the crowded ballroom before deciding where to head. I squeezed into the beverage room and into the hall beyond before it caught my eye. The stairwell was more majestic and perfect than I could have imagined. I stood there for a moment, ogling at it before Devlin showed up.

"I… finally… got you," he huffed, holding his side, before looking at the stairwell. "That looks scary now that I think of it."

I smiled at him. "It's not scary once you've done it. I'll go first if you want."

"I thought you didn't want to," Devlin retorted, a haughty look on his face.

"Well, I guess we won't if you're too scared." That wiped the smugness off of his face. I hitched my skirt up to the middle of my shins and began to climb the steps, while running my hand along the railing. The silver banister was smooth and glossy beneath my fingertips. "Come on, Devlin. I'll do it first if it makes you feel better."

He followed me to the top, and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not a baby. It's just daunting, that's all. Maybe… I think I'd feel better if Jerrold did it first."

I wore my frustration right on my face. "Why? It won't be the same if I do it? You're being unfair Devlin."

He shrugged a shoulder and let out a sigh before replying in a rushed voice, "Well, I'd just feel better. I don't want him to feel left out. This is your guys' thing and I don't want him to think I'm trying to take his place."

I bit my lip to prevent a laugh. For a moment, before I remembered that I was over our squabble, I was thinking that Jerrold deserved to know what it was like to feel left out. But I wasn't going to tell Devlin that.

"Jerrold won't be angry with you. He obviously knows that people can have more than one friend and that people needn't feel obligated to spend all their time with just one. I can be friends with other people, and he can be friends with other people. That doesn't mean we're not friends." 'Dammit,' I couldn't help but think afterwards, 'Where was that stupid speech when Jerrold was with me. Why couldn't I have had those sentiments?' I cast a glance around the room, hoping he was hidden somewhere and would reveal himself after knowing that I was done being a brat. But of course, the world doesn't always work to one's advantage.

"That makes sense," Devlin agreed, "I guess you and I are friends now." He seemed to lack enthusiasm. I wondered shyly whether he was just trying to slide down the stupid banister instead of making new buddies.

Bashfully, I mumbled, "If you want."

"Sure! Why not? So, I guess I'll slide now that I know Jerrold won't mind. D'you want to go first?" Devlin wasn't quite up to sliding yet, which was made obviously by the way he was pulling on his sleeves nervously.

"Fine, Devlin, but you better go right after me, okay? It's not half bad. It's great actually! And after four years of waiting, you can't bail out now, alright?"

Shamelessly, I gathered up my outer skirts and petticoat to my knees and threw my leg over the banister. And off I went. For about ten seconds, the only thing I really saw was the golden railing seemingly passing under me. And then I clamped my eyes shut and braced for the hard ground. But it never came. Something, or some_one_, rather, broke my fall. And after sitting in a daze for a moment, I got up and turned around, just to find I had landed on Count Ian. Following closely behind were a curious Marla and a certain Prince Jerrold, who, for some reason looked quite aghast.

"You should really watch where you're going, Rosalie!" Devlin called from the top of the stairwell. I wanted to thank him for pointing out the obvious, but Marla had cut in excitedly.

"That looks thrilling! I'm afraid I'd never have the guts for that." She turned her gray eyes to the top where Devlin was standing. "Are you going to slide as well, Devlin?"

I wondered why she was acting so sweet. Whenever she was with Calantha, she acted so cold. But now, she actually seemed normal. Hoping to take advantage of this odd occurrence, I decided to coax her.

"It's actually not that scary," I ventured with a smile. "If you hold on tight, you'll be fine."

Marla shrugged a shoulder. "I think I'll just watch Devlin. Thanks for offering, though."

Jerrold's eyes narrowed at me as if to say 'Like it's your staircase to lend out.' But he stood there silently, almost angrily. It was ironic, but I couldn't help but wonder if he was the one still mad, especially after his speech about me holding grudges.

"I think I might have a go," Ian said looking around hesitantly, "As long as Calantha doesn't come. She'd give me so much grief for it."

I stared at him for a moment. He hadn't said it straight out, but I had a slight instinct that Ian didn't like Calantha as much as I had thought he had. Perhaps Marla and Ian were just trying to impress her because she was a princess. Or maybe they were like Jerrold and were too shy or polite to take a stand. Suddenly, I didn't feel so nervous or afraid of being insulted.

"Who cares what she says," Devlin replied, after rising from the ground, "It's worth it. And who cares if she gives you grief. I don't know how or why any of you deal with her."

Ian scoffed softly and climbed the stairs, and Marla hung her head, letting her limply curled brown locks to hang in her face. Jerrold rolled his eyes.

"Well, we all can't be as brave as you, Devlin," Jerrold replied tersely. I don't think Devlin heard his cousin because he was almost at the top already, pushing Ian to the top.

"Jerrold, you're acting like an idiot," I muttered, barely loud enough for him to turn around in anger.

"Me? You're the one who started this whole thing!" Unlike me, he didn't try to keep it down. Marla stared at us with wide eyes before quietly dismissing herself and heading up the stairs, where Devlin was basically forcing Ian on the rail.

"I don't want to fight with you! Not really. I was being stupid, alright? But now you're acting all sour and you'll probably be that way all night and a perfectly good ball will be ruined because I couldn't let things go and you couldn't forgive me! I was just upset about something Calantha said and then I took it out on you… and now look at us!"

Jerrold groaned. "What on earth did she say to you? You know, she's really starting to get on my nerves!"

"Starting!?" I scoffed, unable to suppress myself.

"Well, she's _continuing_ to annoy me," he replied, his eyes softening, "You know, when it comes to girls it's pretty hopeless for me." He sighed, shaking his head.

I slapped his arm. "You're so arrogant!"

He shrugged. "What? I can't help it! You're both jealous of each other and you're both competing for my attention. It never occurred to me that that was it! I mean I knew you were-"

"So we're not fighting anymore, right? Because if that's so, I'm going to hit you. A friendly hit. Hopefully it'll humble you a bit."

Jerrold grinned and tried to shelter himself. "Alright, I'm sorry! Sorry for saying the truth. Heh-heh… joking of course. Now that that's over, I have a proposition. Let's agree not to fight ever again, alright?"

He looked sort of serious, so I stopped trying to swat him. "Sure. I mean, we can disagree on things. Since I'm always right."

"Alright. I can live with that," Jerrold replied, then persisted, "So, what did she say?"

I shook my head and grinned, hurrying up the stairs. Jerrold followed soon afterwards, and soon I was whizzing down the railing again. The things Calantha had said didn't bother me anymore. Marla and Ian didn't seem to think badly of me. Jerrold didn't need to know what she said. Everyone knew it wasn't true. And most importantly of all, I knew it wasn't true. So for one short part of the evening, before Calantha ruined our happiness, Marla, Ian, Jerrold, Devlin, and I were all getting along without any of the coldness. There was a happiness then that Edward couldn't ruin.

And even after Calantha came, and when the evening did end, I still felt a little accomplished. I had made friends with the same people who had once shunned me. Who knew? Maybe the future would be a little brighter. Then again, maybe not…

-


	10. Denial Doesn't Help

**A/N-** cue _Tales of the Crypt_ music Yes, it is I, Evo422, back from the year plus that I've spent battling writer's block and lack of motivation. But I've returned, and with a renewed interest in my story. I don't want to abandon it. I've pained over it for too long to leave it to rot now. I'm trying to get things moving here, so I thought a realization of what we all see as obvious would be a good start.

By the way, this chapter is dedicated to all my reviewers... I adore you all so much. I have to thank Tamaran Girl girl especially for being like my very own cheerleader; I would go back and look at your reviews (all 50 bajillion) and feel really guilty and I'd want to start writing again. A lot of authors are in the habit of giving out cookies and stuff, so... um... here's a cookie. An extra big one. Whatever your favorite type is. Thanks so much!

I know some of you hate romance, and would rather me leave it out entirely, but I'm afraid it's part of the story. Don't worry though; Rosalie is hardly a romantic herself. At all.

CHAPTER 9

DENIAL DOESN'T HELP

PART ONE OF OUR HEROINE'S SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY

I had nearly forgotten, what with the ball, Waldor, and all the silly fights Jerrold and I had, that my seventeenth birthday was fast approaching. I really didn't want to think about it, to be honest. It would be my first birthday without my mother, a thought that resurrected all those feelings of horrible grief in the pit of my stomach. It wouldn't _really_ be a birthday without Mother singing the Ayorthaian birthday song, laughing at her own horrible accent all the while and smiling her brilliant smile at me.

It became a tendency for me to lapse into moments of complete and utter despair. I hated that she was really gone. I would hole myself up in my room, and just gaze out the window, not really looking at anything in particular... just thinking. I wondered if it would happen like this every year; if for the rest of my life I would never again be able to enjoy my birthday without remembering my mother and missing her terribly.

"I have faith, mistress," Tata told me, a small half-hearted smile on her face, "That in the future you will have a happiness so great that, while you may miss your mother, you will be able to remember your memories with her as happy." She had that odd look on her face, the one where she gave a silly smile. I wondered at the undertones and decided, if they had anything to do with what my uncle was hinting the other night, I would _prefer_ they be implied than verbal.

I hoped, or rather, _prayed_ that my uncle wasn't going to try anything on my birthday. I wondered if he even remembered when my birthday was. Ideally, Edward would forget about it completely; no, _everyone_ would forget about it altogether and I could just spend the day in a normal fashion. Of course _that_ was a fleeting fancy... It turned out that my birthday was the start of some rather interesting and drastic occurrences... some of which I don't care to recall. It seemed that becoming seventeen was the beginning of the end of my life as I then knew it.

It was the eve of my birthday, and I decided that rather than give my uncle any hints with my brooding manner (though I highly doubted his ignorance), I would seek out Jerrold and perhaps visit with Alleopes, my most beloved centaur. Of course, as it always seemed these days, he was no where to be found. A foolishly grinning Elani told me quite crypticly that he was '_doing something _**_very_**_ important'_, which confused me almost as much as the wink she gave me after saying that. I decided to ignore our baffling (and somewhat disturbing) meeting and was on the verge of heading home when I happened upon Marla and Devlin in the courtyard. Preferring the presence of my friends (it was still odd to call them that) over the solitude that awaited me at home, I greeted them and was a little surprised at the greeting I recieved.

"Seventeen is a marvelous age!" Marla exclaimed to me matter-of-factly, taking my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Jerrold told you?" _Curse him,_ I thought angrily,_ And this after I made him promise to keep his mouth shut!_

"Yes, and I don't see why you aren't glad! Seventeen will be a very good year for you, I just know it!"

I gave a small laugh. "I think, at this point, that it must be at least a _little_ better than sixteen. Do you like it? Being seventeen, that is."

Devlin, who was loafing on a garden bench, stretched out and yawned. He was in his typical disarray: messy hair, wrinkled clothing, and, if I saw correctly, he was wearing two different shoes. (Alright... he wasn't quite _that _bad)

"Seventeen?" he replied (out of turn, I might add), "I can't say _I_ liked it especially. How, _Marla_, is seventeen a 'marvelous age'? Why is it better, per se, than eighteen or nineteen?"

She blushed a little. "Well... I'm _only_ seventeen, so I cannot speak for eighteen or nineteen. I just know I prefered it over sixteen or fifteen..."

"Devlin, I think she was just giving me a vote of confidence. I doubt there's any tangible reason why seventeen would be better, or worse, for that matter."

He shrugged. "Still, I don't think it's right to lie to you and tell you that it's better when, in reality, it could very well be much wors-"

"I think we all understand your point, Devlin!" I stated in frustration.

Marla giggled at the Duke's bluntness. "Well, Devlin, I believe getting older _does_ have its benefits. I'm taller now, and not quite so awkward as I once was..."

"The older you get, the sooner they're going to want to marry you off," Devlin interjected, "Usually to someone that you don't even know or like."

Marla looked at me, biting her lip to supress a laugh. I rolled my eyes. Devlin really had _no_ idea of how to reassure someone.

"Where are Jerrold and Ian?" I asked, doing anything in my power to get off of the topic of my birthday and especially marriage. The latter was almost as terrible as the first in my book.

"_Oh_. Well, Ian is visiting an old friend of father's; Baron Freder... no, not Frederick... it was... goodness, I'm very bad with names. Jerrold is with King Charmont, anyways, discussing state business with his father's advisors and such-

Devlin shook his head. "That was this morning. It couldn't have lasted _this_ long. I think he's gone to the old pa-"

"Devlin!"

He looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows. "_What!"_

Marla threw her hands in the air. "Devlin, you are positively the most hopeless person I've ever met!"

"I'm _not_ going to a party," I blurted, suddenly feeling a little ill. Why was Jerrold doing _that?_ He knew that I hated even thinking about my birthday. I wouldn't go... not even if all of Kyrria showed up to honor me! "If that's what he's doing, it's all for nothing..."

Marla shook her head profusely. "Devlin, you idiot! Can you follow even the most simple of instructions?"

He gave a bewildered look. "Well he's not throwing a party, so I can't see why you're getting all worked up. She doesn't know-"

"You were supposed to stay quiet!"

Devlin looked to me, shrugging a shoulder apathetically. "He isn't throwing you a party, you know."

"Yes, I surmised as much, _thank you_."

Marla was becoming increasingly more distraught. "You've ruined-"

"I've ruined nothing! Really... it's not as if he'll actually _find-"_

"I could kill you, Devlin, I really could!"

I smiled at their squabbling. "As long as it's not a party, I'm thrilled. Whatever he's doing, he really shouldn't..."

Marla clenched her teeth. "I don't know what to do with that... _oaf._ Devlin, for someone who possesses so much book knowledge, it's a marvel that you lack all social graces!"

He gave a aloof grin. "Well, if I didn't, we'd still be stuck with Calantha, now wouldn't we?"

She rolled her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smirk. "I suppose your penchant of offending annoying foreign notables is your _one_ positive attribute."

Devlin seemed pleased at that. "Calantha, the stupid trollop, had been bothering us all day," he explained, to me, that goofy look of pride still on his face, "Being herself I suppose. She was talking about how 'juvenile' sliding down bannisters was. Marla was really of no help, her only objection being _'But it seemed like a lot of fun'_-"

"Well, I don't have kinship with the king to rely on, do I? If I was rude to her... Well, I don't imagine it'd do much for my reputation," Marla finished lamely, looking a little embarassed.

"So I told her to sod off. I said to her, _'The only reason you think badly of it is because the sight of Jerrold catching Rosalie in his arms reminds you that you'll never have his heart.' _You should have seen her march off after-"

"**Devlin! **How could you say something like _that_?"

I felt my cheeks burning. Why did everyone keep saying _that_? Edward, Tata, even Devlin, the most dense person on the planet, seemed to be observing the same thing... Was _I_ the blind one? It seemed to me that Jerrold was treating me the same as always. Our relationship had actually been _more_ tumultuous over the past months than it had ever been before. He didn't... he absolutely _couldn't_ be in love with _me_. It was because we were getting older. Did everyone assume, just because we weren't children anymore, that we'd automatically fall passionately in love? Did no one understand the concept of friendship? Sure, we weren't seven year olds anymore, and yes, perhaps their assumption was in some ways understandable. It seemed silly to me, though. Jerrold... well, he was just Jerrold. Not my eternal love or any of that. Just Jerrold.

Even in my head that made very little sense.

Devlin looked bewildered. "Well, why _wouldn't_ I? We all know that he's-"

"Devlin, dearest," Marla said delicately, taking a seat beside him and patting his knee in a patronizing manner. "_This_ is the part when you stop talking, all right?"

He shook her hand off, frustration apparent on his face. "I don't see why everyone must watch everything they say around here. Just because we all keep quiet doesn't make things any less true. Even if I _don't_ call Calantha an arrogant hussy, she still _is_! Even if-"

"We understand your extremely valid point," I mumbled, still feeling uncomfortable, "But people around here appreciate being flattered. As honorable as your candor is... it can be tiresome."

"_Tiresome?_" Marla screeched. "I think, if Devlin prizes candor so much, I can think of several _far_ more appropriate terms."

The two of them continued on that tangent; Devlin defending his blunt honesty while Marla instructed him (or _tried_ to instruct him) on the finer points of being polite in society. I was more of an observer than a valid part of the conversation. My head was somewhere else entirely. As upset as I had been about my birthday, I was more disturbed by the thought that Jerrold might actually love me in the romantic sense of the word. I loved him, of course, but not like _that. _At least I was sure that I didn't. Heavens... this was difficult. And there was no one to talk to about it either. Tata would smile in that stupid sage way and give some stupid vague advice. It occurred to me to write zhAthulPa, but with all the time it would take to get the letter to her and get one in return, it hardly seemed it would be of any help. And I could hardly approach Jerrold and say _'Are you in love with me? Because it'd be great if I could get a yes or no on that."_

My birthday would pass, and hopefully would take my cheerlessness with it. But this mess..._ that _was a different story. I saw Jerrold all the time. What would I do? What if _I_ was in love with _him_? That seemed unlikely, because I was sure by the way love was portrayed in books that I would be suddenly and alarmingly clear to me that I was desperately in love. But stories were stories. _If he loved me, I'd know_, I decided, feeling too confused to continue analyzing, _And if I loved him, it would be perfectly apparent to me. _

For some reason, though, that didn't help me to sleep that night.

"Seventeen," Tata said gently, pushing the stray hairs out of my face as I sat up in bed. The sun was shining brilliantly through the window, revealing by its brightness that it had to be at least nine or ten o'clock. I rubbed my eyes and squinted up at her form.

"Morning already?" I asked, groggily. "I only fell asleep twenty minutes ago..."

Tata shook her head, her expression both amused and... I suppose _full_ is the only way I can put it. She looked overwhelmingly proud and loving and I felt a surge of guilt. I didn't deserve that look after all the trouble I'd put her through.

"Seventeen," she repeated, smiling slightly. "I cannot believe that the little baby that I held in my arms not too long ago is now a woman."

I blushed, unsure of how to react. I knew that she was serious, but part of me wanted to laugh her flattery off, being utterly uncomfortable with hearing her praise. "_Thanks_...?"

"Don't try and turn this into a joke," she said sternly, "I'm trying to compliment you. I know that if your mother was here, this is what she'd want you to know."

I pulled the covers up to my chin, feeling a chill running down my spine. I didn't want to start crying over my mother, but I didn't want to interrupt her story, either. She was trying to help; to fill the void if she could, and i loved her for it. But it seemed so much harder when you actually spoke about it, rather than leaving it inside.

"Tata..."

"I remember when _she_ was seventeen," my old nurse mused, "She was a gorgeous creature. Petite, with those vibrant green eyes; she could stop a man in his tracks. That was when she met your father, you know. Enchanted him the first time they met. He was such a fool for her; I don't think there was a single thing he wouldn't have done for her. She was only seventeen when they married. My Isabelle... she was a vision if I ever saw one..."

I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling like a child listening to her favorite fairy tale. "She was only seventeen?" I asked quietly, feeling that uneasy mix of happiness and longing. "I used to think, when I was a little girl, that I would be different when I was older. That somehow, when I reached a certain age, I'd be mature and sophisticated... that'd I'd somehow know the answers to everything. It's silly now, but I was so sure of it back then. I wanted to be just like her..."

"You _are_."

"No," I said, giving a self-deprecating laugh, "I'm not. I wasn't fishing for compliments, Tata, but thank you for saying so. I'm _nothing_ like her, actually. I'm socially inept and rather silly. And I'm perfectly fine with that."

"Rosalie-"

"I just wish I knew! I mean... what on earth is wrong with me? Am I so detached I can't even tell if I'm in love? Everyone else seems to think so, but _I_ can't seem to make sense of it."

Her eyes widened at me in surprise. "Are you talking about Jerrold?"

I threw off the comforter and began pacing around, gesticulating wildly.

"Of course I am! Who else? I _hate_ this! If you had kept your presumptious looks to yourself, and Edward had just kept quiet, and that idiot Devlin had simply shut his mouth for once, I could have-"

"No one is forcing anything upon you, mistress!" Tata explained, her brow furrowing with worry, "If I knew how upset you'd get, I'd never have given '_presumptious looks'_. I never thought... Darling, I hardly know what to say! Do you mean..." She paused, her facing looking slightly horrified, "Do you mean that you _don't_ love him?"

"I _don't_ know," I replied, trying to collect myself. I wasn't sure quite what was happening; why all of a sudden I was feeling the burden of this. All the hints and suggestive looks hadn't really bothered me when they stood alone, but they were quickly accumulating. I gave a terse laugh. Edward was right. Any other girl in Kyrria would gladly give their every possession to be in my position. I was horrible...stupid, ungrateful, totally and utterly insane...

_If_ he loved me.

"He might not," I began uneasily, giving Tata an imploring look, "He's never said anything to me. I know that you think he hasn't had to...that it's all implied... He's my best friend, though! I'd _know _if there was something else there. This is ridiculous. The _last_ thing in the world he'd want is to be in love with _me_. I think he's got enough on his hands, what with being the future king..."

"You can't choose who you love or when," she replied, an aloof expression on her face. She might as well have been fifteen-year-old Lynette, looking off into the distance with that silly look in her eyes. Here she was, daydreaming about love and romance, when I was trying to escape those very ideas!

"You're hardly helpful! In the off case that this is actually true, well... _I_ think it's a horrible threat to a perfectly wonderful friendship."

"Or a new step..."

I plopped onto the edge of my bed, looking at Tata helplessly. "What if I can't be around him anymore? What if everytime I see him I start getting like this... I can't lose Jerrold, Tata. I mean... he's everything. He's all I ha-" I paused, feeling suddenly faint. _That was simply bad word choice; I don't mean it like _**_that_** I knew I'd said that before, but I had never seen the implications underneath. Did best friends really feel that strongly? Or was it something more...

"That sounds suspiciously like a girl in love," Tata said, as if she had read my mind. Not that she needed to. It seemed blatantly obvious when I put it like _that_.

I stared at my trembling hands, the thought of refuting her not even crossing my mind. I _did _sound like a girl in love. And that scared the hell out of me.

**A/N- ** Not my best, I don't think. The transition into the Tata/Rosalie scene was a little weak, I know, but I really wasn't sure of how else to do it. Anyone want to be my beta? I've done without so far, but I think I should probably get one. Looking back on some past chapters, I've used some modern slang that sounds a little ridiculous. A good beta could probably catch those stupid little mistakes I make. If you're up for the job, drop me a message somehow; via review or email (I'll enable viewing it).

I hardly think this chapter is worth a years wait. Not that I've written it over a year. More like over the course of yesterday and today. Which, I openly admit, is pretty sad, considering that it could have gotten to you sooner. I actually couldn't make up my mind on what I wanted to write. I was going to marry Edward to someone, wrote half of a chapter and decided I didn't want to go there; started the chapter a thousand different ways (or three... I tend to exaggerate). I decided at last that I needed a catalyst. And what better catalyst than Rosalie debating on whether she's in love with her best friend. Not very romantic though... as she absolutely hates the idea of it. Sorry if it came on too strong...

Also, I'm sorry for the lack of Jerrold, and Edward, for that matter. They'll be there next chapter.

Be gentle with me... I'm only just coming back.

Sorry about the year wait... I'm gonna work on that. ;)


	11. To the Brink and Back

**A/N-** Four months... that's an improvement, isn't it? Anyone? Haha... well, this was a toughie, for the record. I assume none of you expect perfection, but... yeah. Don't expect it. There's a bit of angst and a bit of schmultz (never too much, of course). If you don't like romance, well, just stick with me. I promise things won't be lovey-dovey for _too_ long. She's got to leave, remember? And there's a reason, too. Here you go. Please enjoy.

-

CHAPTER 10

-

TO THE BRINK AND BACK

-

PART TWO OF OUR HEROINE'S SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY

-

I decided after five minutes of Tata's speech about how my mother had predicted the "love" between Jerrold and I long before it was "obvious" that I would rather risk my luck with my uncle than listen to any of that _nonsense_. Tata seemed pleased at the fact that I was utterly terrified, and I had a fleeting suspicion that her obsession with Jerrold and I _was_ my uncle's evil scheme. She got rather offended when I voiced my opinion, which hadn't exactly been my intention. However, it did succeed in getting her in a huff, which was especially amusing because she was adamant about not getting upset with me on my birthday, which we both knew to be completely hopeless.

"I'm not going to get angry at you," Tata told me, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm off to tell Ollo to start the cake. What kind would you prefer?"

I grinned, shrugging a shoulder. "Any kind, I suppose. I hope I can trust you not to poison it, Tata. That _would _make things terribly simple for Edward and-"

"Rosalie!"

"-_and_ he's already got the upper hand," I finished, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tatiana, but you deserve that after the torture you've put me through this morning."

"Chocolate, I'm assuming?" she replied, a smirk barely visible on her face. "And you, Rosalie... I've decided that you've lost your mind entirely. I know this is going to fall on deaf ears, but I simply must say that you'd have to be absolutely insane not to accept a proposal-"

"A _what_! Who said anything about a proposal?"

"If it were to happen! You'd be insane not to marry him. That's all I'm saying," Tata finished seriously, bursting into sudden laughs as soon as she finished saying it. "_That_ is what I like to call _intentional_ torture, mistress."

"Haha. Very funny," I muttered miserably. "I think I'll stay in my room all day if you don't mind."

She put an arm around my shoulder lovingly. "I think that in due time you'll come to understand your feelings. You over-analyze everything. It comes from reading all those books. Sure, they do wonders for that delightfully brilliant head of yours, but... darling, you'rehopeless when it comes to affairs of the heart."

"And _you're_ hopeless when it comes to realizing that you should probably leave. _Now_. For your own sake."

Tata made her way to the door, smiling again before she left. "You're seventeen."

"I'm seventeen." I shook my head in an odd sort of disbelief. It seemed silly to just be shocked, as I'd been worrying over being seventeen for some time. Still... I was the same age as my mother was when she _married_, for heavens sake! That in itself was mortifying.

I set about readying myself for the day, caught in an odd mix of apprehension and awe. The apprehension won over in the end. Uncle Edward would probably be _worse_ than he had ever been before. Unless he was counting on me marrying Jerrold (which I highly doubted, as it was far too risky for him to bank on), Edward would devise _worse_ things to do to me. I couldn't quite imagine anything worse than the things he'd already done, save beatings or time in the stocks or something ridiculous like that. Even Edward wasn't quite _that_ bad. He had to keep up appearances, of course, and he knew I had no qualms about telling the royal family of my troubles. No, corporal punishment was where the line was drawn. Still, there were pains that he could inflict on me without raising a finger. He was quite gifted in that area.

I glanced out the window for a moment, leaning so that I could see the faint outline of old palace. I smiled, despite the desperate protestations of my mind. Jerrold, whatever he was to me, was the best friend that I could ever hope for. No confusions that my heart had thrown at me could ever change that. Whatever it was that he was doing there (I could think of several foolish things), I knew it would be something to make me smile. He seemed to understand that I didn't want any diamond necklace or fancy dress for my birthday. I needed a laugh and a friend.

Hopefully, the promise of mocking Jerrold later in the day would help me through whatever Edward had up his sleeve. He had been _too_ tolerable lately. I imagined that the expression 'the calm before the storm' was a fitting one for describing my Uncle preceding his evil schemes. Perhaps he believed it would lull me into a false sense of security, but it served to make me little more than paranoid. I suppose that fact was neither beneficial nor detrimental to his schemes, as paranoia gave me no defense against him. How could I _possibly_ defend myself?

I took a deep breath in, steeling myself for whatever was to come. Apathy was the key to weakening him, but I feared that my limited (or nonexistent) control of my emotions and tongue would be my downfall. I gave a terse laugh. For Kyrria's sake... there I was, standing in my room and developing some in depth plan for an attack that I wasn't even sure was going to happen! _I am really losing it_, I berated myself silently, uneasy nonetheless. Procrastination would be my undoing, so I sent myself bravely (or at least with a feeble act of bravado) to face my fate.

I found Edward in the dining hall, his gray eyes surveying the food on his plate with distaste. "Ollo is getting lazy. Look at this- _this-" _He paused, picking up the croissant on his plate and dropping it back down in disgust. "Can that be considered _food_? I wonder, Rosalie, do you think he is worth keeping?"

"He's been around forever," I replied stoicly. "And I adore his cooking."

"Hmm. I wonder, did your father hire him?" Edward seemed to take delight in this question, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure of where the discussion was headed. "I don't know. I suppose so. Why? Why does that matter? Is this one of your rather pathetic jabs at my father's taste or something? Uncle, I do wish you'd find something better to insult."

I almost slapped myself on the wrist. Why on earth did I say such things? All it did was goad Edward into punishing me. However, my uncle merely seemed pleased when I said that. There was something deeply ominous in that self-satisfied look in his eyes and that loathsome smirk on his thin lips.

"Do you?" He stood up, shaking his head in amusement as he began pacing the floor. "Oh, dear... darling, darling, darling. You're so blissfully ignorant that I cannot help but laugh at you at times. It is almost cute."

I took a seat at the table, propping my chin in the base of my palm. "I never realized it before. You say vague things like that to trick me into believing that you know some all-important fact that will forever change everything. You disappoint me."

He gave me a sideways glance, some malignant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Rosalie, dear girl, I nearly pity you. I almost thought to myself when accumulating my... _gift_, I suppose it can be called... Yes, I nearly thought: '_No, Edward, it is too terrible. Even you cannot possibly think of sharing this with the girl!'_ You make it very hard to feel sorry for you, though-"

"Are you still talking to yourself in second person, or may I assume that you're addressing me now?" I delighted in the taken aback expression that momentarily crossed his features.

"Such _insolence_ is the reason that I may reveal what I have discovered to you with no residual guilt. Your smug pride for your father, when standing where I stand, is incredibly ironic. Incredibly pathetic, _heartbreaking_ even... but amusing. And terribly so."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, dear. It _is_ so." He gave a small bow, mockingly. "Pardon me, for a moment. I'm off to retrieve your gift. Happy birthday, by the way. I imagine it shall be a memorable one."

"As do I," I called out, watching as he strode out of the room. "And I will try to feign surprise, _beloved_ uncle, because I know how much it means to you!"

I could hear his scoff from the other room. I stole Edward's 'unworthy' croissant and nibbled on it thoughtfully. Men like Edward were all talk; whatever _he_ presented to be horrifically disturbing was probably mildly offensive at the worst. A pile of wrinkled papers was dropped before me haphazardly, causing the papers to scatter all over the table. I looked up at Edward curiously.

"I apologize, Rosalie, that I could not get them bound. You will, I trust, forgive me."

"Of _course_," I muttered, gathering the papers into a pile. "May I ask-"

"Read them. The first- the one on top- was the first I read. I promise that you will become just as intrigued as I."

I picked up the yellowing paper, narrowing my eyes slightly to read the unfamiliar, scrawled handwriting. "_'Dear Nathaniel,_'" I read in as dull of voice as I could manage. " '_It has been five months since I have heard from you, and I must tell you that my heart is breaking-'" _I paused, narrowing my eyes at the letter, both taken aback, bewildered, and doing my best to keep all emotions to myself. "What is this, exactly? I don't quite understand. A letter. It's a love letter to my father. That means nothing."

"Do you mind?" Edward took it from my hands, cleared his throat, and held the letter out in front of him for dramatic effect. " '_Darling, if you no longer care for me, then please have mercy and tell me so. But I cannot believe that. I wanted to forget everything that has passed between us. I know that you are married and that there is a child. She is rich. She facilitated your dreams of greatness. With me you might have been Sir Nathaniel if your ambition had carried you far enough; Sir Nate of no particular importance. But with her: Duke! Oh, Nate... I wanted to think that you loved her more, but can that be true! After the way you looked at me when we met by chance- no, Nate. Please, love, just respond.'_ "

I ripped it from his hands and scanned over it, my eyebrows furrowed. "That doesn't matter. She knew him when they were young. She wanted to believe he still loved her. I pity her uncle; that is all." It wasn't all; not really.

Edward pouted at me mockingly. "Yes. And secretly you wonder if its true. If your father, the saintly man, really would abandon some former lover to become a Duke. Perhaps he and I are not so different after all. And perhaps the storybook romance of your parents was not as idealistic as your mother and your insufferable 'Tata' were so fond of telling you. Why do you think he was gone so often? Because he loved her so utterly and completely? Nathaniel left whenever he could. She adored him so completely and it nearly killed him. He knew how to play the part _so_ well.. He was so guilty that it made him ill." He smiled at me. "Your father was the best actor I'd ever seen. I suppose I was jealous. He could always see the greatest weakness in his victim and sway them with his innocent smile. Nathaniel had me tricked for a while. I thought he actually loved her. But-"

"No. You're just trying to-" I sighed deeply, but there was an odd tightening in my throat that signified the onset of tears. I hated him. I glanced at the letters on the table with an impossible amount of hatred. "They mean nothing. She couldn't let go. My mother-"

Edward took another letter and bent down to my ear to read it. " '_I was so glad to receive your letter. My heart was pounding and I could barely steady myself. You will come! Oh, Nate. I have thought to be guilty; I don't doubt that your wife is a good woman... and the child! But Nate, I could not think of them. To me they are not real. All I know is that you have promised to come and see me, and that is all that matters.' _"

I tore the letter from his hands and ripped it to pieces. By then I had lost my will to disguise my emotions. "They're... _You!_ You found some way to have these made. They're not real. She's just someone you created to hurt me."

I blinked painfully and glanced at the shredded letter in my lap. I sounded pathetic, even to myself and I was quite easily convinced of whatever I thought ought to be the truth The letters were aged and they looked and felt far too authentic for me to truly convince myself of anything. My mind was oddly still. I had not allowed anything to register for I was still in a state of denial. Even if it was true (which I wanted desperately to doubt), it was too overwhelming to grasp in a moment's time. It shattered everything I had ever believed; everything that I had ever valued.

"I wonder if she knew of them. They were pitifully concealed; in a box under his bed, and even some in the drawer of his desk, for heavens sake," Edward sang out with a terrible joy in his voice. "I believe he wished her to find them. Imagine being shackled for seven years with such terrible guilt. Perhaps he wanted her to know he'd been unfaithful; it would free him to know that she despised him.

"She never could, of course. Isabelle was too weak; too pitifully obsessed with him to ever hate him. She would deny it to herself. I believe she must have known. She was never strong enough to even grow angry. Isabelle was too weak to let her dream husband fade."

"Edward..." I choked on my words and couldn't manage to retrieve them. The worst of it all was that I could see everything that he said as being true. And that was perhaps the worst part. Not even the truth; the fact that I could compromise my admiration so easily. That I could forget my pride and call her a spineless fool; and him an unfaithful manipulator! Was I so ungrateful? Still... How could it be refuted? The letters (from whomever she was... it didn't even matter) and his story... they made sense.

My mind's eye could see Father wringing his hands shamefully and leaving a stray letter out on his desk in hopes of her finding it. Perhaps Mother did. Her pretty face would fall into shock and then some sort of quiet determination to never again speak of it. That was the way that she would have been raised; to simply push on with her life and to that there was ever a flash of anger or even hatred in her mind. Could she really just swallow it? When your entire perception of life is shattered, can you really just move on?

The question was more directed at myself than at my mother. Perhaps I was putting too much stock in what my uncle said; that I believed him too easily and fought not nearly hard enough for them. Even if what he said was true in its entirety, the least that they deserved was to be defended as stupidly and relentlessly as could be managed. And I had it in me to argue pointlessly for days on end, even if I had no reason to believe anything I said was true. I didn't have the heart for it at that moment. Pride and anger gave me an invincible drive to argue up a storm and to oppose my uncle's every word, but I was sorely lacking in both. I had only overwhelming doubt and a lonely uncertainty comparable to a lost puppy, and obviously neither lent me very much strength. I wanted to muster some fiery rebuttal more than anything, but he had finally rendered me too weak to do even that.

_It was all a lie. _Yes, I was weak, but... _All a lie_! Everything! Every dream and memory that had preserved me through it all. A charade, a facade, _lies_! Certainly the small things were not lies: the books were not lies, but they were no longer there to offer comfort. They loved me, of course, but that... I did not care so much for _that_, really. Thinking of them, and of the way that everything seemed to make sense when they were together; _that_ was what I'd loved. It wasn't true. The small pathetic voice reasoned with me: _He's made it all up; it's one of his games!_ But the letters spread before me seemed to smother all hope of that being true. They were real. I knew it because my gut had lurched at the mere sight of them, and their words made me ill. Edward could never have orchestrated it

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," Edward said, his voice subtly taunting. "I can but imagine what they are."

My mouth moved to form words, but all that managed to come out was a pathetic "I hate you". He looked back at me with his chin tilted haughtily in the air. He saw I'd been broken, and I saw it, too.

He was clever, certainly, but by no means a genius. Every argument I'd ever made (or at least all that I could remember) involved some comparison between the evil, vile Edward and the saint that was my father. Any idiot would have known where my weakness lied. I broadcasted it to the world. Ignorance is bliss, truly and honestly. I hated myself most of all that moment. I'd brought it upon myself.

Part of me wanted to leave that cursed house with my damnable uncle and its stupid lies. I'd fought so hard for so long for it, but it didn't seem worth it anymore. I'd fought for them and for me; so that I'd have that part of them with me always. I didn't really want it anymore. It seemed symbolic of my loss; it possessed the beauty and perfection that I had adored in my parents, but held only perpetual hurt and loss. Was I to stay another whole year and be reminded of my loss every single day?

With trembling knees I stood and began gathering the cursed letters. Tata could never know. She loved my parents; she saw my father as the hero that I once had. She had to remain the same. Everything in my world had changed; every last thing I had once relied on was changing. Not Tata. Never her. She still had to whisper my parents' story into my ear whenever a birthday came about, or smile at me and tell me how wonderful they were. She could never know. They had to remain beautiful to her, for they needed sympathy somewhere. I don't think they retained very much beauty or mystique with me.

Hugging the letters to my chest, I struggled up the stairs. Only with my door securely locked behind me did I finally break into sobs. I choked and sputtered for what seemed an eternity, tearing the letters to pieces and wishing that I had never turned seventeen to begin with.

---

I burned the last letter at one in the afternoon, and by that time the sobs had subsided. I wondered momentarily if I should have read them first for they may have offered some sort of clarity. Everything that I had found out earlier still seemed hazy and unreal; as if I were caught in the midst of a terrible nightmare. It didn't really matter, though. I didn't really want clarity. I wanted a return to simplicity; a return to the beautiful dream that had been my perception of my parents.

Taking in a deep breath, I wiped my eyes for a final time. I _had_ to come out eventually. Tata had already knocked on my door, but I had yet to pull myself together at that point. Besides, Jerrold was bound to drop by any moment. I really didn't want to see either of them, but I felt it was my duty to anything in my power to make an appearance of bravery. Edward couldn't know the extent of my devastation.

I glanced in a mirror, displeased by the glassy-eyed, pallid girl that looked back at me. Anyone that knew me would be able to tell right away that something was wrong. I grabbed the powder on my vanity that had been used all of two times in the six years I'd had it and blotted my face amateurishly.

"Rosalie!"

"What!" I set down the powder and approached the door uncertainly. "Yes?"

Tata gave an audible groan on the other side. "Will you open up? I refuse to hold a conversation with a door!"

I cracked the door open uncertainly, trying to keep any trace of despair out of my eyes. "_What_?"

Instantly she observed something awry. I guess I should say that _I_ instantly noticed her noticing something awry with me. Whether it was the white powder randomly spotted across my face or the puffiness around my eyes, I couldn't quite determine.

"_Rosalie Margaret_, what on earth..." She tilted my face towards her rigidly. "Whatever is the matter?"

I rubbed my face and made an expression of ignorance. "Nothing. I'm fine. I was reading poetry. Lord Tyron. It moved me to tears." I managed to say it with as much conviction as I could muster, but I doubted that Tata would ever buy it.

She didn't. "Do you think me completely unaware of your little tricks after all this time?" Tata rolled her eyes. "You may lie as much as you like to me, but I hope that you'll at least tell _someone_. It does no good to keep things bottled up inside you. One day they'll pile up so high that they'll cause you to burst."

"That will be a terrible mess. I'd pity whoever has to clean _that_ up." I didn't smile to her like I would have under any other circumstance. I couldn't, though. Nothing inside me felt even remotely humorous. Sure, I could say the stupid little quips that I always said, but nothing in it was heartfelt. Every moment my stomach clenched and I was reminded by the terrible nagging voice in my head that everything I treasured was destroyed.

"Please, Rosalie. If I can help-"

"You can't," I snapped back brusquely. I didn't mean to, but it was all I could do to get her away from me. I questioned my ability to keep silent at that moment, and with her persistent pressing I worried that I might actually tell her. I could imagine little worse at the moment.

"I will not be spoken to in such a way by _you_, young lady. If you are upset-"

"I'm _not_ upset. I just wish that you didn't have to bother me. I just wish that you'd all leave me alone."

Tata crossed her arms over her chest and gave me her most intimidating look. "If there is something wrong, I feel a world of pity for you, be assured of that. However, that gives you no right to act all prissy and rude, to _me_ no less!"

"I apologize," I said, looking to my feet with feigned shame. "I just miss them." I hated saying it, because it was painfully far from the truth. Tata would believe that though. I knew she would.

She swallowed and gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm. I felt terribly ill. "If you can't tell me, at least tell him." Tata handed me a piece of paper with such a look of heartfelt sympathy that I was certain my guilt would consume me.

"What is it?" I asked miserably, not even bothering to disguise my feelings. I unfolded the paper and read the familiar scrawl aloud. "'_His Highness, Heir to the Throne of Kyrria, Duke of Bast, Count of Yrula, Viscount of Isulia, Lover of Good Books, Admirer of Independent Maidens, and Best Friend to the Most Venerable Duchess of Kyrria, etc., etc., Prince Jerrold most humbly requests the company of the dearly beloved Rosalie of Frell at the Old Palace in celebration of her seventeenth birthday, and mocking over the fact that she will never _**_ever_**_ be the same age as His Highness, Prince Jerrold, etc., etc. His Highness (you will forgive me if the use of etc. is discontinued; I believe my numerous titles have been well established) requests the lady's presence at no later than two o'clock. Celebrations will conclude when the Most Venerable Rosalie of Frell tires of His Highness' company (if such a thing could actually happen), and mocking will continue until His Highness tires of it (which, again, will probably never happen). Please arrive promptly. Sincerely, His Highness, Duke of... (insert titles here), Prince Jerrold' _Heavens... he's a fool._" _I glanced at the letter and then to Tata.

"Your fool, though" Tata whispered. "Isn't he?"

I shook my head, forcing a soft laugh. "You don't know when to stop..."

I'd nearly forgotten about _that_, but to be honest it was almost a welcome distraction. 'Almost' being the operative word, of course. Maybe I loved him. Somehow that wasn't as earth-shattering as finding out that the parents I adored and idolized did not love each other with such impossibly overwhelming fervor as I had always thought. Or even at all, in my father's case. He wasn't the selfless person I supposed he was; he was greedy and materialistic and clever enough to hide it behind a guise of 'true love'. Again the clenching in my stomach started.

"Well you ought to go. You'll be late," she chided, the mischievous glee in her eyes fading a bit as she noticed the dread in my face. "Please just tell him, dear. Whatever it is, he'll know what to say. I'm afraid I don't always know how to handle you, but I'm certain he's better at it than me."

For some reason, I gave her the biggest smile I could manage. "He's a fool."

"Your fool."

"Yes. _My fool_." I still felt ill about everything that had happened that morning, but it was true. I knew it.

---

With the stupid false pretentiousness of Jerrold's invitation, I almost expected a band of trumpeters to announce my arrival at the old palace just for kicks. I tied Kummeck to a post, slightly apprehensive at the way he was bucking wildly. The last thing that I needed was to have to walk all the way home from the Old Palace. Then again, it would really add to the tragic drama that my birthday was turning out. All I needed was for Jerrold to tell me he was wildly in love with Calantha to make the catastrophe complete. I would have scoffed, but somehow I worried that I might jinx myself and it would actually happen. Yes, it was probably the stupidest, most childish thing to even think... as if Jerrold could actually love _her_... but it seemed that the day could only get worse. After preparing yourself so regularly for something terrible to happen (and then finding that something terrible _will_ happen), it seems impossible that anything could ever go right. Maybe that's why lovi-... why 'my feelings' for Jerrold scared me. My life in general was devastating. A romance could not change that.

Honestly, I don't even know _why_ I was thinking of romance. I was desolate. Or maybe I just wanted to be desolate. Maybe I _wanted _to think of romance, but I was guilty over... _what? _ Not hating my father every second of every hour of every day? I still hated him enough. Or perhaps not succumbing to sobs every two minutes when it struck me that I no longer had my parent's fairy tale love to rely on for comfort? Analyzing myself was difficult and pointless. I never made sense anymore.

I entered the palace and began climbing the main spiral staircase, half- expecting Jerrold to jump out at me and rattle off his titles or start bowing profusely or something ridiculous like that. However he was not to be found, at least not in the obvious range of sight. I was not about to go looking for him either; the Old Palace had hundreds of rooms and navigating the many rooms took days. Things were bad enough as they were, and I preferred _not_ to starve to death in some far-off room in the palace while searching for Jerrold.

Luckily, he made his appearance after several minutes of waiting on the top of the staircase. He appeared out of some corridor with some enormous brimmed, jewel-encrusted, maroon colored hat that appeared to have some cobwebs on it. I stared at him for a moment stupidly before attempting a smile.

"His Highness, Heir to the Throne of Kyrria, Duke of- whatever it is you're Duke of-... I must say that is the most hideous thing I've ever seen. Where on earth did you find it?"

He gave me an enormous grin. "It's your present! I do hope you like it." He took it off and bent to place it on my head, but I moved away horrified.

"It's got spider-webs on it!"

"It's an antique. It belonged to one of my ancestors. I can think of dozens of courtiers that would proudly wear this on their heads and tell some long winded story of its royal origins. It's priceless!"

"Burn it," I replied, "So that no poor soul will ever have to suffer through such a tale."

Jerrold narrowed his eyes at me. "You're upset-"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Out with it, then. I won't present your real present until you're actually in the frame of mind to appreciate it."

"_Jerrold! _ I'm fine. I swear." I said it with all the tenuity of someone just recovering from a bout of tears. Which I pretty much was.

"Swear it upon _my_ life. Upon _your_ life. Upon your parent's graves!" He taunted childishly, not quite aware of what he'd said or how it would affect me.

I stared at the ground for a moment, biting my lip with such force that I was certain it would bleed. It was no use anyways. He knew me well; maybe he even loved me.

"I'm not well." _Perfect. As if he hadn't noticed _**_that_**.

"I can see that," he said thoughtfully, taking a seat beside me and taking off his ridiculous hat. "What's wrong?" Something about his proximity to me made me feel shameful and flustered.

"Edward's just being horrible again. You'd think I'd have better control by now, but he's really outdone himself."

"How so?" He moved closer. I started wringing my hands nervously.

"It's all a lie, you see. There were these letters... from some woman, but she doesn't really matter. He loved her, I guess. He married Mother because he wanted to be a Duke. He fooled us all. And he wanted her to know, but she didn't want to know. She fooled herself into thinking she was truly happy, and that there was nothing wrong. It wasn't perfect or beautiful or lovely. It was just a lie that he started and she continued."

"Rosalie..."

"And the worst part is that she convinced herself so completely that it all wasn't true! On her deathbed, on her God-forsaken deathbed, she was telling me that she wanted to see _him_. Can you imagine? Why? She couldn't stay with _me_ because of _him_? After all _that_! He didn't love her, and she was just a fool. Those are my parents. They're not lovely and clever people. They're fools and liars and manipulators. So you see, he's really outdone himself. Now I can't even love them anymore. They just seem sad and pathetic."

Jerrold stared at me. "That's terrible!"

"It is."

He stood up, suddenly glaring at _me_. "No, Rosalie, what _you've_ said about them! That's terrible! You'll just listen to what he says-"

"The letters weren't fake! He didn't love her, Jerrold!"

"You don't know that! For heaven's sake, all you have to go on are some ancient love letters and _his_ word? And now you've completely given up on everything that they taught you? Just like that? Because of _him_?"

I blinked back tears, suddenly uncertain about everything. He was supposed to understand, not start berating _me. _"You don't get it."

Jerrold shook his head, his green eyes softening a bit as he rubbed the back of his neck disconcertedly. "If you're going to become bitter over this, because of _Edward_, then you're really not who I thought you were."

"Because I'm upset over the fact that it was a lie, suddenly I'm a terrible person? You don't understand. I relied on them to get me through times when I was completely hopeless. I was fooling myself! So I ought to be like her, then, and just bury my head in the sand? Will that make you proud of me, Jerrold? Will you love me then?"

I had no idea of what I was saying until it came out of my mouth. I thought to be embarrassed or flustered, or even to flee the Old Palace, but I was far too furious to be any of those things.

"Jerrold, you can't possibly understand! Don't treat me like a villain because I'm disillusioned about them."

"They're human! They were just people, Rosalie! They're not the angels you made them out to be in your dreams, but they're not demons either! They're just like you and I. We're not perfect. But that doesn't matter. You don't know that things didn't get better. Maybe they worked through it. Even if they didn't..."

I hugged myself pathetically. He was right, but that didn't make it any less difficult. "They were supposed to be perfect. They had to keep me going."

"They did, didn't they? But you don't need them to do that anymore," Jerrold replied, with strength and certainty in his voice. I looked to him for a moment, sensing some odd difference in the way that he was speaking and looking at me. I couldn't put my finger on it, though.

"I might. You never know. Things happen, and-"

"I'll be there. I promise you that much."

I shook my head. "I know, I know. I needed them, too! You were there, but it wasn't always enough! And then there were times when you couldn't be there; there'll be times when you can't be there! What about those times?" I laughed meekly. "I can't even bring myself through anything. What on earth is the matter with me?"

Jerrold ignored me. "Things are different now. Even if I can't be there- It's just different. Rosalie, I have to say something. Apparently, it's been a long time coming. Rosalie, I-"

Some impulse caused me to jump to my feet instantly. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest and my head was throbbing. Everything within me seemed to say _'Not now'. _My mind raced to find some worthy excuse to stop him, but I knew that the only way was to tell him the truth.

"When did you... _decide_ that?"

Jerrold was evidently taken aback. "I didn't really decide it, to be honest. I _realized_ it. At the ball, even though it was stupid, I got jealous of... You understand. I don't know the exact moment. I just thought I ought to tell you. I thought it would be welcome. I didn't know-"

"It is welcome. Just not today. Even... If you were to tell me Jerrold, I imagine I would tell you that I felt- that I _feel_ the same way. But today is a terrible day. I don't want to tell our-" I paused, completely mortified. I couldn't even let him say that he loved me, and yet I was already planning the stories to tell our children! He only seemed bemused.

"I don't want it to be on the worst day of my life. Any other day would be lovely. I know it would. Not today. I don't think I'm ready yet. I only just realized it. I suppose I'm a fool. I'm sorry. I want to have renewed faith in- _it_ before you tell me. If you change your mind-"

Jerrold chuckled, grinning brilliantly. I can't imagine how my pathetic response could have possibly made him happy, but it seemed to do the trick. "Change my mind? Are you joking?"

"If you were to change it, I don't think I'd blame you. I'd be heartbroken, certainly, but-" I sniffled a bit, looking at him shyly. He was still grinning, so I smiled back, giving a nervous laugh. "Well, that went off without a hitch, didn't it?"

"It didn't go exactly as planned, but it'll suffice. I can live knowing that you would have said it back. That you _will_ say it back. And that you're not secretly in love with Devlin."

"Devlin? Can you see me professing love for _him_? Under any circumstances? Never! That's almost like me worrying that you loved Calantha or something." Which I had. Not that I would ever tell him that.

"Well... _I don't know_. You can never tell with these sorts of things! I mean, I never really thought it was true, but it was just the sort of thing you imagine when you think of bad scenarios... But you-"

"What about my present?" I interrupted.

"Thankless much? I don't have a _literal_ present. Unless you like the hat, in which case it's yours. I found it in some old wardrobe. I cannot imagine how I ever survived without that hat. It's a gorgeous specimen. For the record, I was looking for the secret passage, but of course, it wasn't nearly as fun without you there. It's just as well. I got the hat, and that's really worth more than all the secret passages in the world put together, don't you think?" I shook my head, and he glared at me.

"Your 'present' will be given to you at a later date, when it _isn't_ the worst day of your life."

I put the catastrophe of a hat on my head and wrinkled my nose. "I adore my hat. Spider-webs and all."

"It looks phenomenal. It was made for your head." He leaned over and set the hat straight, looking me straight in the eyes.

I felt compelled to tell him of my earlier self-doubt. I wanted to be honest with him if he was to love me; especially after the day's occurrences. It would never be like that for Jerrold and me. I felt some odd stirring in my stomach, far different than the earlier clenching. It was odd, thinking about Jerrold and I without revulsion. I was even hopeful about it.

"I was going to give up," I started, "I considered it, at least. I was going to let him win. Can you imagine? Even if I'm still a bit angry at them- I don't hate them, mind you- I can't believe that it ever crossed my mind to give up and leave. It's the principle of it! Him! Running _my_ manor! I can't even-"

"See? It's already working."

"What?"

He gave a smug smile. "I said that I would help you through. Well... _haven't_ I?"

I leaned against the bannister and narrowed my eyes at him. "A bit smug, aren't we? I never said that it was all better. It will never be what it was. I'll forgive them certainly, but... It's a terrible feeling, having a dream smashed. It helps, though, to have something real to lean on."

Jerrold gave a sage nod. "Exactly. That's what I meant."

"Well..." I took off my hat and twisted it, caught in yet another odd mix of emotions. I suppose it _is_ possible to feel devastated and completely hopeful at once. "I need to go think."

"You do far too much of that. How about a slide for old time's sake?" He ran his hand over the bannister and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"No. Not today... Maybe _that_ day. Today's too terrible for anything good, remember?"

Jerrold nodded comprehensively, and bent to give me a kiss on the forehead. "I would kill him, if I could," he swore determinedly, tilting my face towards his to look me seriously in the eyes. "I don't want you to think that I don't blame him for hurting you. I won't forget it. _Ever_. I promise you, he'll get what he deserves. Even if I don't have a hand in it, I know that he'll get _that_ at the very least."

I tried to give a convinced nod, but I somehow doubted that. He seemed almost unbeatable, mostly because he cared for nothing but monetary gain. How can you hurt a man who cares for nothing but that? I suppose all I had to do (as if it were so easy) was remain strong until I became of age. Maybe I could. I _could_.

"Goodbye Jerrold." I began descending the steps before the sound of his voice stopped me.

"I hope you'll help me to know when that day is. I'm afraid that I'll spoil it again by trying too soon. Which, I must say, would be terribly embarrassing. Then again, the children would find it terribly amusing, I should think."

Jerrold was a fool, utterly and completely. But he saved me. I'm certain that if I hadn't had him, I would have given up on everything. Nothing that would happen; nothing that _did_ happen, could ever change that.

---

**A/N-** I'm getting this out ASAP, so I didn't do my usual hard-core editing. Thank you all my reviewers! I get super nervous before I read your reviews because it means a lot to me. Really. So if you don't like it, please present your criticism in a nice way. Haha. Next time, fairybells, I'll send it to you to give a read-over. I'm just impatient to get this out because you all deserve it!

caronee- Haha... yes, I won't pretend that I'm a master of suspense, because I'm not. I guess the suspense is not so much are they going to get together as why does she end up going. Which may or may not have something to do with Jerrold. BTW: There will be another guy later on. When and who he is... well you'll have to wait and see!

mockingbird84- I hope that you found what Edward did this chapter a little bit more rough. I personally would find that devastating, but I don't know. There will be devastation later on, too. I promise!

And for you romantics NY Yankeegirl (Go Yankees!) and kirstie... enjoy it while they're happy and in love!

To everyone else: Keep reviewing!


	12. Walking on Air

1**A/N-** It's me again, and _not_ four months later. Yay for me! I hope to get to the leaving part in two or three chapters, if possible. I don't intend to drag it out forever, because we're going to delve into her life as a governess for a little while. Then there has to be the resolution... _Phew_! I get tried just thinking about all the writing these fingers will be doing all summer. But I'm siked about getting more out.

-

CHAPTER 11

-

WALKING ON AIR

-

I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself for a good amount of time following the encounter at the Old Palace. Most of the time I was caught between a nervous churning in the pit of my stomach, grinning like an imbecile, or lamenting the loss of my fantasy. I managed to keep an appearance of apathy in front of Edward at the very least, and oftentimes I even managed to smile when he was around. Usually it was not even a conscious effort, but instead the product of thinking of Jerrold and imagining all that could be. The more I thought about it, I was surprised that I was quickly accustoming myself to the idea of loving and being loved. Not to say that it wasn't scary, of course. Now, at least, it was welcome.

I suppose the most difficult part was not letting on that Jerrold and I were unofficially in love. It was good as official,_ really_, because he'd intended to say it and I reciprocated the sentiment, even if I wasn't quite brave enough to tell him that yet. It was quite difficult to act naturally when I was often caught in moments of rumination on the matter in which I'm certain I must have appeared to be in some sort of a daze. Tata had the good sense just to go about her usual business and smile sagely to herself (which I was learning to ignore and accept). I suppose that she had figured out by then that something of significance had happened, but she didn't press me for information.

I went about trying to avoid Jerrold under pathetic guises, not quite certain when '_that_ day' would come, but intent on not rushing it. It was just as well, though, as Jerrold was allegedly occupied with state business. I threw myself passionately (perhaps a bit overzealously) into the study of math and sciences just to find something to keep my mind occupied. There are only so many times that one can think _'Good heavens... I'm in love! Love! With Jerrold!' _without beginning to feel like a mindless twit. It was reassuring to know that I had not _completely_ lost my scholarly abilities in the discovery of love, despite the fact that my mind often wandered.

Oddly enough, while Jerrold was detained by his obligations, Edward made it his personal mission to study me intently at every meal. There was not a day of the week when he was not leaning his chin on his fist and watching me with such fierce concentration that I was tempted to throw a spoon at him to remind him of rude he was. I didn't, however, trying to prove to him and myself that he meant nothing anymore and that I was far more mature than he could ever dream to be. There was such power to be relished in the fact that he could not touch me now; that even when armed with the most devastating of information there was nothing he could do to break me. It must have driven him mad. We were both disciplined actors, as our precarious situation dictated, so there was no way to be absolutely certain that he felt as livid as I imagined him to be.

Entering the dining hall, I found it difficult to imagine he was _not_ angry. Edward was focused intently on his plate, staring at it with an intensity that normal people do _not_ look at food with. In my head I had already decided the conversation, and already I knew what demure and genteel things I would say to drive him over the edge. I knew my uncle could not stand my usual boldness, and that nothing would unnerve him more than some dramatic change in behavior.

"Edward," I said politely, seating myself at the opposite end of the table. It took everything in me not to smirk.

"Rosalie" was the short reply, and the cold gray eyes found their way to me. "You seem well."

"No better than I ought to be. And you look well. I suppose business is proceeding as it should." I took a bite of the porridge in front of me and blinked at him curiously. "Uncle?"

He gave an restive cough. "Business... yes, that's going as well as ever. And I suppose that... whatever it is that you do to pass the time is going just as well."

"Oh, yes! I'm studying Physics right now, actually. I happened upon a book in the market of the complete studies and theorems of Carprenocus. I can only understand part of it, but it's very-"

Uncle Edward held up a hand to stop me. "I'm sorry," he laughed, shaking his head in apparent amusement. "I cannot listen to one more moment of this blatantly nonsensical conversation. I've insulted you for your impudence on many occasions, but I suppose it's preferable to feigned politeness any day. We hardly are fond of one another, so I don't see why it should be hidden. It has been on no other occasion. Personally, I find it amusing that someone who hated me with such a passion only two weeks ago has suddenly taken it upon herself to be civil. You're not a civil person; you've hardly got any reign on your emotions whatsoever."

"Somehow, I believe my behavior contradicts what you're saying, Uncle," I countered, pursing my lips and giving him a look of coyness.

"Well, you can persist, but it seems obvious to me that the impact of my revelation was somehow lessened by something else of great importance." He paused and rubbed his chin contemplatively. "And given the fact that your afternoon was undoubtedly spent with none other than His Highness, I believe I have an inkling of why you've dealt with this so... _maturely_. I'm not ashamed to say it, either. No. I'm too pleased at the prospect of-"

"Of what? I haven't the slightest idea of what you're speaking of," I rebutted, disappointed at the emotion that had found its way into my voice. I set down my spoon, wishing very much that the rest of the world (Edward, specifically) was not fifty times as perceptive as I. _I_ never would have figured such a thing out on my own.

"Oh heavens, here we go again... Tell me the truth, Rosalie, and I promise you on my honor-"

I scoffed, quirking a dubious eyebrow. "Your _honor_? Do you even know what that is? I doubt very much that you have enough honor for me to stake anything on."

"I will leave you alone, Rosalie, if only because you will someday be Queen. You will marry your prince, and you will have your happiness. I will have mine. Don't you see?" Edward gave an almost gleeful laugh. "It's so terribly simple. With you married-"

I pushed my chair out, shaking my head in disbelief. He had to be insane. Completely and utterly insane. If he thought that it was _that_ easy to call a truce, he most certainly had another thing coming.

"Uncle Edward, I believe that you are quite gravely mistaken. If hell began to freeze over; if the sky came falling down to earth in pieces; if the horsemen of the _apocalypse_ arrived on our very estate, I would never even for a moment contemplate calling a truce with _you_. I would sooner throw myself off a cliff onto jagged rocks or be eaten alive by ogres. I would..." I kicked the chair in abruptly. "I suppose you understand."

"I'm not asking for a truce, Rosalie. You may hate me as much as you like. That does not matter. All that matters is that you'll marry him." He looked me straight in the eyes, leaning forward on the table. "He loves you. He must have told you so. Tell me honestly: did he tell you? Is it absolutely certain?"

"He told me no such thing," I snapped, feeling my cheeks burning. "You make these assumptions with no proof whatsoever. Jerrold never told me he loved me. And even if he had, even if he _will_, it will not change anything. I wouldn't just marry him and leave the estate to _you_. For heaven's sake, Edward, are you really so naive? To think that after everything, I would just forgive you because I had a romantic prospect! It's laughable. I want to see your face on the day that this estate is legally mine. That means the worl- No. I'm not _you_. It's not the world to me, but I will see this through. "

The look of victory on Edward's face disappeared, and he stood up with a look of fury. "The things that I have done to hurt you and break you... they were all just a means to an end. I would do the same to anyone else in your situation. You're a child. For all the backtalk that you give me, you're hardly a worthy opponent. I _see_ your weaknesses, because I_ look_. You're too silly and self-centered to-"

"_I'm_ self-centered? Says the man who's been doing anything within his power to intimidate his niece into getting whatever it is that _he_ wants! Money is all you care about. _Why_? What good is it if you're never going to be pleased with it? You're going to work yourself to death, always reaching and grasping for more and more... I've lead a charmed life, maybe, and I've never gone without, but I still think you're a fool. No amount of money is worth the value that you place on it. Furthermore, I apologize for the fact that something called _a life_ detained me from studying you for your weaknesses, but I don't regret for a moment that I'm not a grasping devious snake of a person."

The look of absolute ire on his face, which once might have frightened me, seemed more pathetic than anything else now. He _was_ pitiful. Sure, he had mastered ways of hurting me, but beyond that there was no great purport to give his life any sort of meaning. The greed that consumed his every thought was a sad excuse of a purpose. Edward was _nothing_. My realization couldn't erase what he'd done to me, but it certainly gave me a feeling of exemption. Maybe I wouldn't have to care what he did anymore. Even if he attacked my past, it didn't matter. I had a future; a glittering vision of safety and salvation that awaited me. He couldn't touch it. Even if I were stupid enough to reveal it to him, there was nothing he could do. Edward couldn't touch Jerrold. He could attack ghosts and tear down their honor with the cruelty that boundless greed supplied him with, shameless enough to disgrace those who can offer no defense for themselves. Nothing he could do could possibly alter my perception of Jerrold.

"This was an opportunity for _you_, Rosalie. I had nothing to gain by it, but you had the security of knowing that I would do nothing to hurt you any further. You have willingly cast off this opportunity," Edward boomed, glowering all the while. "Know that you've brought this upon yourself."

"You can't hurt me. Not anymore. It's simple, really. I don't have to care what you say, because in the end it won't matter. In the end, I'll get my happy ending. I will. Because-"

A supercilious simper appeared on his face. "Because he promised you that he'd give you that much, did he? We're a bit haughty now, aren't we? You're not invincible, dear child. I may not be able to hurt you, but... I suppose what I say doesn't matter to you. It's just as well."

Uncle Edward made his way back to his seat and lounged back thoughtfully in the chair. Perhaps I'd said too much; that obviously wouldn't be terribly shocking considering the fact that I lose quite a bit of restraint in the heat of the moment. I didn't want to worry about it, though. I wanted more than anything to believe myself free of him. _I am_, I scolded myself, mustering as much conviction as could be managed. _He doesn't matter. I'm done with him. Only a year! And all the while I'll have Jerrold. I **am** done with him. I've won._

"You're free to go, Rosalie, if that is what you wish. You've been very informative,"he said flippantly, waving a dismissive hand at me. "Go to your prince. You can recite sonnets and stare longingly into each other's eyes. Isn't that what idiots in love seem to find so appealing?"

"I don't suppose you'd know. I doubt even your mother loved _you_," I mumbled, shuffling to the door.

"Ah! So you admit to being in love, then?"

I tilted my chin up boldly and a little haughtily, glaring in his direction. "You are intent upon my being Queen, Uncle? Truly and honestly? You ought to know that if I _were _Queen, the first thing I would do is make sure that _you_ are completely and utterly ruined."

"Touche, my dear girl, _touche_."

I gave a quick, almost self-congratulating curtsy and exited the room, smiling to myself. I had managed the impossible: blind siding _Edward_. He had no clever retort to offer, no empty threats... _nothing_. Perhaps it _was_ true. I was convinced that it was going to be better as Jerrold had told me; that the year that remained did not have to be a burden. It had been a long time since I'd felt so brightly about anything, and it was beyond marvelous. I was happy; truly and utterly.

—

Spring in Frell was a wondrous metamorphosis from the bleak skies and snow covered streets of the long winter. I suppose I was a bit late in noticing it (as it had been Spring for some time now), but my own transformation made it all the more beautiful. Even in the midst of the bustling, cobbled streets of the city, the fresh green of the surrounding woods could be seen and smelled, filling the entire city with the light fragrance of budding trees and blossoming flowers. Rain came frequently, but that particular day the sun was shining so brilliantly that all memories of the desolate winter months seemed something from a distant dream.

Edward was perhaps right about one thing; love certainly does make people idiotic. I was nearly spouting sonnets in my head about the glory of Spring, as if I had never seen the seasons change before in my life. Alleopes impatient stomping was enough to snap me out of my daydreams. We were out in the pasture, as we had been some months before, doing exactly the same thing we had been doing last time. This time, however, I had the great fortune of boasting two personal victories, which Alleopes unfortunately had no particular interest in. The only way his attention could be kept was when I gave him an apple, and even then he seemed distracted. Which, of course, was especially vexing as I expected him to listen attentively to my every word. I suppose I was accepting at long last that each of us were in the relationship for one reason. If I weren't so utterly pleased with the way things were going, I might've thought it sad that I needed a centaur as an excuse to hear myself talk.

"Isn't it lovely? Fate works in mysterious ways, my friend. I never thought I'd ever have cause to say this again, but I'm rather pleased with the way things are going. Aren't you? Yes, I know... you got the bad end of the deal. I've neglected you terribly these past months. Here's an apple. You know that means you've got to listen to me, don't you? I don't give you enough apples to feed a starving village for nothing, you know." I paused and smiled, handing him a portion of apple and shaking my head at myself. "Yes, I _have_ gone completely mad, but you'll do your best to ignore that fact, won't you? As long as there are apples at least."

Alleopes chewed the apple with that blank look in his eyes, apparently oblivious to the moronic words coming out of my mouth. I wondered, if he was capable of intelligent thoughts, what he would think of me. An idiot, undoubtedly. I wrinkled my nose.

"You and I both know that I'm not usually so silly and... well, _dumb_ about such things. I initially thought love was a terrible idea," I explained breathlessly, petting his head while prattling on. "And you know Jerrold; he's been my best friend for centuries ( not literally, of course, but you know what I mean). But it's all happened so fast, and I'm finding that it's a rather good idea now that I think about it. I mean, how is it any harder than being best friends? We already are experienced at the art of having meaningless fights and making up. He's obviously willing to fight for me, not that I sanction that. If anything I think it's idiotic, and that I'm quite capable of handling such things on my own... But I suppose it's nice to know that he will, anyhow. I mean, I suppose even if he didn't care for me in that way he'd fight for me; men like to pretend they're chivalric when really all they want is to bash each other for no reason."

"Of course. Why else would there be wars?"

There was no need to look to see who it was. The accent narrowed the list down to one person, who also happened to be the last person on earth I wanted hearing me gush to myself. Hell, I would have preferred Devlin, even if I _did_ know that he'd tell anyone and everyone. At least that way I could trust that it wouldn't be twisted in some malicious way. I glanced over my shoulder at Calantha, who was dressed surprisingly simply in a maroon dress that offset her tan skin beautifully. She stood there for a moment, smiling naturally, as if she had no secret agenda. But knowing her and knowing that she most likely _did_, I refrained from smiling back. I handed Alleopes another portion of an apple and did nothing to acknowledge she was even there.

"I'm not accustomed to such a cold reception, to be honest, but I understand that you are so intimate with the royals that you have become used to greeting people of my stature informally," she said, not maliciously, but with a bothersome air of arrogance nonetheless.

"Intimate? I suppose, in this context, you are _not_ referring to the obscene allegation that I am His Highness' mistress. Am I correct in this?" I inquired, politely and coldly. I dusted off my dress and rose to my feet, giving her the most elegant curtsey I could manage and a humble 'Your Highness' before sitting back down.

"I did not tell anyone that, as you undoubtedly realize. You would know perfectly well if I had, believe me!" Calantha laughed impersonally, as if she herself found nothing humorous about what she'd said.

"Well, Princess, I give you my most heartfelt thanks for not spreading such a cruel and unwarranted rumor about me. I know that anyone who stands in your path is just begging for such treatment, but the fact that you only threatened me with such an immature and vicious rumor shows how truly magnanimous you are. Your kindness will not be forgotten, I assure you of that."

Calantha said nothing, her hazel eyes focused on Alleopes. "What do you call it?" she asked, her voice not at all repentant. There was a just enough kindness in it to imply that she wanted her cruelty swept under the rug. However amazing that was in and of itself, I was fairly certain that this was only part of a ploy to learn of the true extent of my relationship with Jerrold and plan her method of attack accordingly. Paranoid, perhaps, but most likely true.

"_It_ is a he, and his name is Alleopes," I replied, resting a protective hand on his head. "He was a gift for my twelfth birthday."

"Ayorthaian for 'apples'. It's a lovely language, isn't it?" Calantha said, leaning shyly to pet his head. "I suppose I am partial to it because it is my first language, but it has such a melodic sound to it."

I nodded, watching her guardedly. "It's lovely, but, as in any language, it depends a great deal on the speaker. Some make it sound like a beautiful song while others make it sound like an out of tune violin."

"I suppose you find that I make it sound like the latter," she replied irreverently, looking at me with her lips pursed. "You know, at home I hardly ever talk. I know you wouldn't believe it. No one talks in Ayortha. Perhaps the peasants, but certainly not the nobles. I find it lovely to be here in Kyrria, where there is a healthy amount of talking and gossiping."

"I personally find _no_ amount of gossip healthy, especially when it is about _me_," I quipped, trying to distract Alleopes, who was basking in the attention Calantha was giving him, with an apple. It didn't work.

Calantha ignored me, her hazel eyes focused intently on Alleopes, as if she were talking only to him. Which, of course, bothered me immensely as he was _my_ confidant. "Rarely are the heirs of the Kyrrian throne and the heris of the Ayorthaian throne so near in age. But King Char started procreating early and my father started late, and it evened out. It has been the favorite wish of my father that I marry Jerrold. Not even a wish, really. It is his expectation. My brother shall marry the princess of Dartania and rule Ayortha, and I shall marry Jerrold and be queen of Kyrria.

"You see, there isn't any_ 'I hope to marry him' _or '_It would be best if we married_'. We shall. Whatever must be done to make that come about will be done." Calantha looked to me momentarily, a complacent certainty in her eyes. I stared at her dumbly, not quite understanding whether this was a serious lecture or her idea of a joke. "Princes marry princesses. They don't marry duchesses. You offer nothing. I offer everything."

I gave scoffed incredulously, looking for her to give me a malicious smile or a scornful laugh. At least then there would be something to hate her for. There was none of her false kindness or feigned innocence; if anything she was speaking and acting with a poise that I had not thought her capable of. Still, when she looked to me for a response, I couldn't even manage to smother my laugh. I mean, really; _what_ one earth was she talking about? As if Jerrold cared about the stupid convictions of her father. And really, what could she offer that I couldn't? I mean, besides the stupid title of princess, there was no way that she could possibly be a better queen than I.

_I don't even care about that right now, _I thought in irritation._ In Kyrria's name, can things just be happy and simple for a short while without having to worry about marriage and being queen and Calantha and Edward? Is it really so outlandish to hope for normalcy; to wish to be freed from the tangled mess of relationships and rivalries for a brief time? _Of course it was. Ever since mother had died, nothing had been simple

"I suppose you've discussed your little scheme with King and Queen? Or Court Linguist and Cook's Helper; whatever it is that she prefers to go by. And you've spoken to Jerrold as well? I hope you do realize that Eleanor was not even a duchess. That didn't seem to stop King Charmont, did it?" I asked, almost jeeringly. I paused, realizing how unattractive I was acting. I sighed and tried to give her an apologetic smile, before pressing on gently. "What of you, Calantha? Don't you think you deserve to at least be in love? What good is a marriage if it's just to fulfill your father's wishes?"

She turned to me with an ominous sort of look in her eyes. "Love is not for princes and princesses to worry about. The marriage between King Charmont and Queen Eleanor is a rarity. Even if a prince _believes_ himself in love with someone beneath him, he will usually find that she will not make a suitable queen. She will not understand his obligations."

"I do. I _would_. There was never a time that I ever tried to prevent Jerrold from fulfilling his obligations to his father and his country," I refuted passionately. "Perhaps I am not a princess, but I know Jerrold well enough to know what his choice would be. If he has any of his mother and father in him, if he is the boy that I've grown up with and the young man that... that I _respect_ greatly, he will choose love."

Calantha rolled her eyes. "You, you mean? He told _you_ he loves you?

I flushed. "Well, in so many words. It was impli– I'm not going to dignify that with an answer, thank you very much. It isn't your business. I'm hardly going to worry about that now. For heaven's sake; I'm hardly seventeen!"

She laughed, and in it there was a trace of her typical hatefulness. "Congratulations." And then, instead of continuing on to try and refute what I'd said, she did something I never could have expected. She started walking away. I watched her for a moment stupidly, before following her.

"So you came all the way out here just to say _that_?" I demanded, completely dumbfounded. "That's all?"

Calantha looked over her shoulder. "I did not come here seeking you out. It was a chance meeting. I've said all that needed to be said. I'm not here to challenge you. You may have whatever sort of relationship you wish with Jerrold."

"I thank you most reverently, but I do not need your permission," I countered, unable to smother my need to argue with her. It was odd that _I_ was being the immature one. Something must have caused the change in her; some sort of knowledge that I did not possess. It really should not have mattered; she was Calantha, after all, and she would do and say whatever pleased her. I was not quite unsettled, but I was certainly confused and curious. I was more a threat to Calantha's dream now than I'd ever been before and, ironically, she picked_ then_ to begin acting like a human being.

I shook it off and rested my head on Alleopes. _I'm happy, no matter what,_ I reminded myself. _Jerrold and I; that's all there is to care about. Jerrold and I._

—

It was an evening, some time after my meeting Calantha, when dusk was settling in with its hazy purple hue canvassing the sky overhead. I had been in my room when I heard the click of pebbles on my window. I chastised him jokingly; _'You'll have to pay for the repair if you break it'_ or something of the sort. I can't quite recall. All I remember is the way that he looked, standing beneath my window; the ardor in his emerald eyes and the way that the wind was playing with his disheveled sandy-brown locks. The way that the world looked and felt at that moment in time felt like a puzzle finally pieced together right. I wondered what to say. I thought perhaps I shouldn't say anything. It was safer that way; at least I wouldn't run the risk of saying something stupid or awkward.

I descended the trellis, not thinking at all about falling, not offering a joke about how he'd have to catch me if I did. There was a stillness about it all, but in the silence there was the heaviness of things unspoken. My feet touched the ground and I looked to him. He said nothing and I said nothing. I might've smiled at him or told him about Calantha and Edward and all the things they'd said. There was no cause to. He seemed to comprehend everything about me by the way that his eyes were fixed on mine. I looked to the ground and back up to him, but he wasn't watching me anymore.

"I'm tired, I think," Jerrold said arduously, his eyes looking off somewhere. He was. I'd thought the 'state affairs' business was a joke, but the way that his shoulder slumped contradicted my thoughts.

I took his calloused hand in mine. "Do you want to walk?"

The grass was damp underfoot, the dew settling upon it in the advancing nightfall. I don't know where we were going, but it didn't matter. I clutched his hand almost nervously, perhaps frightened by the reality of it, the proximity. There was no going back, but that was a comfort. I was glad of that. The silence thundered in my ears and my stomach clenched. We said nothing for a long time, and walked slowly as if we were following a funeral procession.

"I think being king will not be so simple as I once thought," he murmured at last. "It involves so much."

"You will make a great king," I replied, my voice sounding distant. "One of the greatest Kyrria has ever seen or ever shall see."

Jerrold laughed throatily, tightening his grasp on my hand as if he were afraid of what would happen if he were to let go. "Oh? How do you know?"

"You can do nothing by halves. You will give it everything," I told him, certainly. I did not have to act convinced; I was. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He looked at the sky, and his eyes fixated on some far off star. "I love you," he says earnestly. "Always." And then Jerrold looked at me, a sort of indefinable triumph in his eyes.

An odd feeling washed over me. It was not my earlier giddiness, but something deeper and more substantial. I had expected some symphony to begin playing a booming concerto at the moment he said it, but it there was a stillness and clarity that was both unanticipated and pleasant. Over the pounding of my heart, I could barely hear myself say, "I love you too."

Jerrold started mumbling something in a husky whisper into my ear, leaning forward so that our faces were not more than an inch apart. _"Oak, granite,_ _Lilies by the road, Remember me? I remember you. Clouds brushing clover hills, Remember me? Sister child, grown tall, Remember me? I remember you." _

_Had it been any other day, I would have laughed at his inability to sing. But under the _canopy of stars, with one hand holding onto mine and the other placed gently on my waist, and Jerrold leading me in some slow-paced waltz, there was a sort of haunting beauty to the way that his voice sounded as he murmured the Ayorthaian song. I'd heard it before, with someone else singing it; whispering it gently into the ear of someone they loved as Jerrold was now murmuring it to me. I couldn't recall the place or time or person, but it seemed something out of a lovely dream

Perhaps we were swaying clumsily; we may have looked like fools for all I know. It didn't matter. It felt like nothing else would ever matter ever again. Nothing could ever matter as much as the sound of his voice and the cool night air and feeling in my heart that I would have that night to treasure for the rest of my night. Nothing. At this moment, I needed nothing to remind me of what cause I had to be happy. I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart, completely at peace.

—

**A/N-** The end part is supposed to be sort of cryptic. I didn't want to kill it with the usual Rosalie-ish analysis of everything said and felt. I thought it better that it be understated. I personally like it that way (which is pretty evident as I wrote it) , but I understand if you do not. The 'you can do nothing by halves' is based off a quote from Sense and Sensibility written by Jane Austen.

Oh, yeah. I think I wrote somewhere that Calantha had 'baby blue eyes, but I'd forgotten at that point that Ayorthaians had a much darker coloring. Or maybe that was just Areida. Either way she has hazel eyes now, and I'll go back and change that later.

Please please please review! I don't threaten my readers with the _'If I don't get 10 reviews, I won't update' _thing (and I don't intend to), as I find it a bit immature. I write because I love doing it and I love hearing from you and knowing that I'm making someone happy. I won't lie; I love getting glowing reviews, too! I was kinda disappointed with only five reviews, but I'll attribute that to the fact that the _Ella Enchanted _section doesn't get as many stories as it used to. Major thanks to those of you who have reviewed; you honestly make my day!

**Caronee**- Jerrold does in fact love her (as you see here). I liked the cake bit, though; very, very funny! I hope this chapter helps to clarify the last a bit. I'm sorry if it was confusing; I'll try to make things more clear in the future! The thing was that he was trying to tell Rosalie he loved her, but she wanted it to be on a better day.

**Hugs and kisses to all the rest of you! (That sounds rather annoying, but whatever) Yay for you reviewing, and get to it if you're not! Please do! Just remember: polite constructive criticism and NO flames! Or praise... that works, too! (I'm kidding; just tell me what you think!)**


	13. Crashing Down to Earth

**A/N: **A Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza/Festivus/'Holiday' present. Don't expect it to be very good. I just wanted to put SOMETHING out there for you all. We're reaching the climax here.

Be forewarned: it's EXTREMELY long.

* * *

CHAPTER 12

* * *

CRASHING DOWN TO EARTH

* * *

"And so...?" Marla asked in a breathy whisper, clutching at my hand nervously. "And so he told you he loved you?"

I sighed, my cheeks reddening. Only Marla, with her sweet, persistent prying, could possibly get me to tell of what had happened that blissful night. We were walking through the bustling streets of Frell at my suggestion; she had wanted to know why I was so uncharacteristically happy and I refused to speak at the palace where the risk of Calantha or Devlin eavesdropping was exponentially higher. Even amidst the cacophony of the city, perfectly aware that no one but Marla would hear my story, I was inexplicably nervous. Well, it _was_ explicable; perhaps unreasonably nervous is more apt a term. Some silly, superstitious part of me feared that in attempting to recount the events of that night I would curse the wonderful thing that had happened to me. I suppose it is paranoia more than anything; for so long everything had been going to hell in my life. I didn't want that to happen to Jerrold and I. It _couldn't_. I wouldn't let it.

"_Rosalie_! You promised you'd tell!" Marla demanded impertinently. "Remember?! I won't tell you about _my_ secret if you don't spill every detail! And don't think I won't know if you're hiding something. You're very transparent. One can tell whether you're happy or sad in a second's time."

I sent her a wary sidelong glance. "Can 'one' tell when I'm annoyed in a second's time, too?"

"_ROSALIE!"_ Marla whined, arching a disgusted brow at a rather unsavory character that was leering at us as we passed him. "You know, Ian would kill me if he knew I was walking around town without anyone to protect me! The only reason I'm here is because you made a _promise_. Do you remember what that means? It means you carry through! So _talk_!"

"Your 'secret' better be good, Marla," I muttered miserably, looking down at the cobbled street sheepishly. "So Jerrold told me that he loved me, 'always'. And it was very lovely and calm and... And we danced there, under the dusky light, and he sang that Ayorthaian song to me. I don't know what it's called or how it goes, but it was so wonderful. The way that his voice sounded and the way that the world was so– Good heavens, this all must sound like a laugh to _you_."

I ventured to look at her face, expecting her to be suppressing a fit of giggles or smirking derisively. But Marla was blinking furiously, looking almost as if she were trying to repress not laughter but tears. I wasn't sure what to do or why she was getting so emotional so I patted her shoulder awkwardly, offering a meek, sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry?" I asked jokingly, desperate to coax out a smile. "I know it's a rather pathetic story, but you needn't cry on my behalf. I thought it was quite nice, even if it was unceremonious."

Marla glared at me, shrugging my condoling hand off and wiping at her eyes with balled fists. "It _is_ lovely! You haven't any idea how lucky you are. You've got an adoring, handsome _prince_ in love with you. A PRINCE! Do you have any idea... No! No you don't! You never will! I haven't got _anyone_ in love with me. And I never shall. Ian's going to make me marry Devlin and I'm going to be miserable forever."

With that she sat piteously on the back of some peasant's goat cart, burying her face in her hands and sighing plaintively. I grimaced, not quite sure what one could possibly say to lessen the horror of such a situation. The mention of 'Devlin' and 'marriage' in the same sentence was enough to make me want to gag.

"So- err... I guess that's your secret?" I mumbled haplessly, biting my lip. Marla stopped in her crying long enough to send me a thankless expression that I could hardly fault her for. I should have had something more comforting to add than _that_ unintelligent prattle.

I took a seat beside her, stroking her hair mousy brown locks as consolingly as I could. It was rather odd for me; I'd never had any situation that called for comforting someone like that. Or a female friend to comfort, for that matter. But Marla seemed to appreciate it, and after some time her tears abated.

"Oh, Rosalie, I'm sorry I snapped at you! It's just..." She furrowed her brow and finally shrugged in resignation. "I don't know what to do! He asked me to marry him and-"

"Devlin asked you to marry him? You hardly know each other!" I interjected rudely, unable to reign in my disgust. "And why on earth would he do _that_? He was the one worrying _me_ about how they 'marry girls off' at our age, and suddenly he's done the same to you! He must've known that if he asked Ian's permission, your brother would try to force you to wed! How underhanded of Devlin. I knew he was annoying, but I never thought him unscrupulous!"

Marla bit her lip shamefully, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "He didn't ask Ian for permission. I– in a moment of stupidity that I shall never forgive myself for– told my brother of his proposal. I thought he would agree with _me_ and think it an awful idea. I should have known that Ian would think it the greatest news in the history of Kyrria, or the _world_ for that matter. Devlin _is_ the king's cousin and he _does_ have numerous honorable titles. And now Ian is set upon my acceptance, and he is getting impatient and I'm afraid he will disown me if I say no. And Devlin—ignorant fool that he is—told King Charmont and Queen Eleanor of the possibility of an engagement and... And now I will have to hide from them for the rest of my life!"

I wanted to slap Devlin for being so incredibly dense. I knew it was not his fault that he lacked the mental capacity to be anything more than a dry, humorless idiot. _Still, that dolt deserves to be taught a lesson..._ I studied Marla's hopeless expression and realized, selfishly, how lucky I was. The idea of being bound to someone in something as permanent as marriage without loving them implicitly was distressing. Devlin, who was pragmatic and simplistic about everything, surely knew that marrying Marla would bring neither any happiness. Unless he loved her, in which case he might be silly enough to think he'd be happy just to have her. _Devlin, you idiot!_ I wanted to scream. _Unrequited love is infinitely worse than no love at all!_ If my parents' ill-fated romance had taught me anything, it was _that._

"When did this happen? How did he go about it?" I asked, hoarsely, the whole scenario still incredibly bizarre. "Where were you? I-- I could ring his neck, I swear..."

Marla gave me a half-hearted, appreciative smile. "Believe me: that would save me a lot of grief. We were walking through the palace grounds, talking about nothing in particular. No... We were talking about you and Jerrold, actually. And all of a sudden he turned to me and asked me why _we_ shouldn't marry. And I laughed because I thought he was joking, though I suppose that was silly as he's not capable of humor. Devlin pressed on, trying to rationalize it. _'We might as well marry each other, because we may not ever find our soul mates, if those even exist._' And then he said that I'd probably end up marrying some old man anyways so I should marry him to avoid that fate."

She laughed throatily, looking to me with a miserable attempt at cheer. "_ 'I have a lot of money, so that should please you' _he said, in that deadpan tone of his. I would have laughed if I hadn't been on the verge of tears!"

I smiled empathetically, shaking my head in horror. "Yes, I_ do_ think I can imagine him saying that. He never was very subtle, was he?"

Marla giggled shakily, a (possibly) mirthful tear slipping down her face. "Oh, you think _that's_ bad?" She assumed an impassive expression, imitating Devlin, and proceeded in a serious, humorless voice. " _'And neither of us is very handsome, so why should we wait-- probably in vain-- for some great romance that may never come?' "_

"That's awful! He can speak for himself; I think you are very pretty, Marla!" I shrieked. That anyone would mention any perceived physical inadequacies of their partner in a _proposal_ was alarming.

"The worst part is that I actually considered it for a moment. You're kind, Rosalie, but Devlin is right; I'm not particularly pretty. It _would_ be an advantageous marriage, too. And even if Devlin doesn't do it on purpose, he makes me laugh. So, I thought that maybe he had a point and-"

"You're joking," I demanded brashly. I ignored the irritated look of the peasant whose cart we were sitting on (though I realized how rude we were) and tried to get Marla to look at me. "Remember when we were laughing in horror about the whole thing? Let's try to get back to _that_ place."

She shook her head. "I wasn't finished. I _was_ considering it until I saw the King and Queen. I was returning to the palace after telling Devlin I'd consider it. I saw them in the garden. They didn't know that I was there, and I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but I just– They were there together, just walking. And King Charmont looked so low-spirited and Eleanor just smiled at him and he looked back at her. And he wasn't happy or even reassured, but the look was just... I don't know. My father never looked at my mother that way. No one ever looked at _me_ that way, and the thought that no one ever would suddenly became unbearable."

I said nothing, my chest clenching strangely and disconcertingly. Marla sent me an easy smile, waving her hand as if to negate all she said.

"I'm sure it's just a passing fancy. Not everyone can have that; I know as much. I think there are only certain lucky people that get to have that sort of thing. Maybe I'm one of them and I don't even know it." She sighed and adjusted her seating on the cart, ignorant of the peasant glaring at us impatiently. "But how long are you to wait before you give up and resign yourself to reality?"

"I don't know," I replied forlornly. "I don't know." For some reason, I felt restive at the thought of all this talk of love and marriage. I knew that I had Jerrold and that he loved me, but... Here I was, doing _this_ again. I didn't have anything to complain of! I had Jerrold, and he looked at me (I imagine) in the same way as Char looked at Ella. But the way Marla spoke of it all with that sparkling look in her eyes worried me.

"What if love can't fix everything? In my mind I've made it seem so infallible, but nothing can be that perfect. It can't be," I mumbled, fidgeting with my dress anxiously. "What if it isn't as great as they make it out to be, or as it feels at that-"

"Are you joking? Or are you trying to make me feel better? Or are you trying to get me to reconsider Devlin? Because I _know_ you can't honestly be serious." Marla sprung onto her feet when she realized the answer, her mouth agape in horror. "You are! Oh Rosalie, are you so morbid that you've got to second-guess what you have? The, might I add, _wonderful_ thing you have. You'll spoil a good thing by thinking too much!"

"Things can't possibly remain as marvelous as they were that night. It's the sort of thing that you just _know_ happens once in your life," I tried desperately to explain, paling slightly. "I don't mean to say that things will never be good again—or even wonderful again. But how can they ever match that one night? And things are going to get harder and–"

"You have such little faith in Jerrold and yourself?" Marla asked, her eyes wide with innocent horror. "Maybe it won't be perfect ever again, but it'll be there, won't it? Do you really expect things to be perfect? When is life _ever_ perfect?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I _do_ have faith in Jerrold; I've far more faith in _him_ than I do in myself. But what if he can't–" I swallowed my words, unsure as to what I was saying or why. Was I really doing _this_? Doubting the one thing upon which the rest of my life hinged? This entire thing was Edward's fault. He had instilled in me this irrational distrust in everything good that happens, and now that doubt was threatening what Edward himself could not touch.

_I can control my incertitude. He is powerless. Edward is powerless. _I repeated the mantra in my head encouragingly, mustering a smile at last.

"You're right. _I'll_ ruin us sooner than anything else will. Nothing is perfect, but I'm lucky. I know that."

Marla seemed reassured, glancing down at her hands timorously. "Well, don't gloat too much to _me._ I've still got a possible engagement with my dear, charismatic Devlin to worry about." She stopped with feigned rumination, her eyes mischievous. "Who knows? Perhaps I will grow to love him as much as you love Jerrold and we will all live happily ever after!"

_Happily ever after._ I nodded gaily, though my mind was still weighed down with superfluous worries. Or at least I willed them to be superfluous so that I could enjoy my happiness. After the revelation of Jerrold's love for me, everything was meant to fall into place. As far as I could see, it _had._ I had power over both Edward _and_ Calantha; Jerrold had given me the strength and opportunity to weather any of their schemes or insults. But both opponents seemed heedless of my newfound confidence. They smiled their secretive smiles, both aware of some profound and marvelous secret that would dispose of me and give them the opportunity to realize their respective dreams of wealth and power. That was not paranoia; _that_ I saw and heard with my own eyes and ears.

Jerrold clearly had troubles of his own pressing upon his mind. I had not noticed it that night; I was far too immersed in the enchantment of the moment to notice. But from an objective point of view, there was no denying something was wrong. Besides, it could not be a coincidence that both father and son were downcast and drawn. No, something was most definitely going on.

I had rested all my hopes and dreams on poor Jerrold's shoulders. He was supposed to preserve my spirits through any attempts of Edward to dishearten me. It was not that I doubted Jerrold's devotion to me, but I knew that he was mere human (though in arrogance he might argue to the contrary). How much could he handle before he collapsed under the pressure of my worries _and_ his own? _I_ could help_ him-- _that's the point of love, after all, to help one another-- but it wasn't something that could be forced. I told him everything. Perhaps it was in selfishness that I poured my heart out, knowing he would do his best to help me and lessen my own pain. But I would gladly take on his burdens, too. If only the headstrong fool would think to tell me!

I found myself in the middle of a tumult of lies and secrets, in the midst of many people armed with an all-powerful knowledge that I hadn't the slightest clue of, alone and ignorant. Sure, to Marla I sounded thankless and disloyal, but she didn't see Edward's smile or Jerrold's grimace, or the eerie kindness in Calantha's voice. I wanted to believe she was right; that I was overanalyzing everything, as I always seemed to do. Life was _not_ perfect. But that wasn't what vexed me. What concerned me was that everything was _too_ perfect. Like a false smile, it all _looked_ good and lovely, but there was a contrived air about it that has you at unease.

"_We-ell?_ Are we going to go back to the palace or not?" Marla asked impatiently. "You are being terribly odd, you know. Too quiet. I don't like when people are quiet. My father used to be very quiet. He'd just sit in his study, scrutinizing anyone who came to see him with that unrelenting gaze of his. I was so terrified of him!" She giggled. "Shall we go?"

I smiled tenuously, secretly agonized. It _killed_ me not to know. My entire life, I'd prided myself on being a know-it-all, reading every book that my grasping hands could reach. Yet that hardly helped me now, when even the wisdom of the most brilliant philosophers and poets from all the ages was completely irrelevant.

"Go? Oh, yes... Let's." She nodded at me and started off in a steady gait. I followed my cheerful companion, feeling anything but _that_.

"That's right, you little brats! Get the hell off my cart!" The elderly peasant hollered, waving a wrinkled fist at us.

Marla looked at me in undignified horror. I just laughed.

* * *

Not a moment after we arrived at the palace Marla was most grudgingly dragged away by Ian, who seemed intent upon giving her a good talking to. I stuck my tongue out him as he pulled her away by her wrist. He blinked stupidly at me for a moment before proceeding with a slightly stuporous look on his face. I'm quite convinced that he thought he was hallucinating, which gladdened me immensely. What Ian was doing to poor Marla was inexcusable, after all. He was being just as bad as Edward if not _worse_. At least Edward never tried to make me marry (probably because he knew that I never would). Still... what is it with men forcing their poor sisters and daughters into miserable arrangements for their own benefit?

I sighed, pondering that very conundrum on a bench in the garden. I was encompassed by an array of vividly colored blossoms of every color and shade on the well-manicured trees and bushes that thrived on the sprawling grounds. The sun was setting behind the massive palace in a triumphant parade of pinks, reds, and oranges, utterly diverting me from my earlier doubts and worries. The world was– for those marvelous few moments– emblazoned with every conceivable hue: a sumptuous feast for my eager eyes to devour. And then the sun was gone and the darkness set in. The world became shrouded in shadow, and every brilliant color that I had so admired became dull and lusterless. Just like that.

I thought to go home, but nothing in me felt compelled to go. _Why? For what? _Even the chilling breeze could not coerce me. I think the girlish, romantic part of me expected Jerrold to emerge from the shadows. If I could just sit with him for a minute or two, I was certain that my doubts would be assuaged. There was something simultaneously exhilarating and reassuring about just being near to him. It was pathetic. And wonderful all the same. I sighed and glanced around me expectantly. Certainly, at that moment, Jerrold would have some sudden impulse to walk through the garden and...

"I'm mad," I whispered, shivering on that stupid bench in the dark. "Next thing you know I'll be waiting for my fairy godmoth-"

I stopped, allowing myself to smile for a moment. That wasn't far outside of reality at all. _Jerrold _had a fairy godmother. I searched my mind for something outlandish, but it offered nothing forth.

"Rosalie?"

I looked up quickly, only to find sparkling emerald eyes looking back at me with concern and bemusement. Emerald eyes, I'm sorry to say, that did _not_ belong to Jerrold. Eleanor, with a shawl wrapped about her slender shoulders, studied me carefully.

I felt suddenly and overwhelmingly embarrassed. "I'm sorry I'm sitting on your bench. After dark. When I really have no right to be sitting on your bench." After a moment I remembered to curtsy. "_Majesty_."

She laughed a forced, high laugh. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Please don't be alarmed. If you'd like, we can designate that bench as yours."

I laughed, too. My laugh was no less contrived than hers. "Thank you, but I really don't need a bench. I just needed to think. And home is... I just need to think. Without Tata or Edward. Just--"

Ella sat beside me, her fingers pulling anxiously at the fringe of her shawl. "Please don't tell me you're worrying about Jerrold."

I smiled one of those idiotic_ 'What do you mean?' _sort of smiles, before deciding that Ella deserved frankness from me. "I am. Not just about him. About lots of things. But primarily him. Why? How did you know?"

She shrugged, not bothering to feign happiness anymore. "Because he's his father, whether he knows it or not. Whether he wants to admit it or not. They're one in the same. Both impossibly stubborn when they put their minds to it. Twenty years of marriage and Char _still_ won't share his troubles without a fight. Call it nobility or stupidity. I don't know."

I frowned into my lap. "Should I be worried? Jerrold always told me everything. Is something wrong with Jerrold? King Charmont? Kyrria?"

_All of the above?_ I– already in a bottomless well of self-pity and pessimism– was certain that nothing but the worst awaited me. _Who was I kidding? Of course it will all go to hell in a hand basket! We've gone over this before, stupid girl. You, Rosalie, are indubitably Fate's favorite target._

Ella studied me earnestly for a moment, seemingly searching for words. "I– I-"

She laughed hoarsely and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You have to be brave. I know you're a brave girl, and-"

I shook my head furiously. "No! I don't _want_ to be brave anymore! Just tell me! What is it to be? Has he changed his mind?"

She blinked at me dumbly. "Changed his– changed his _mind_? Rosalie! Surely you don't think my son is _that_ fickle with his sentiments, do you? He's perhaps the most stalwart man I know. You need not worry in _that_ department. He is enamored. Jerrold is far more than enamored. He is completely and utterly devoted; completely and utterly in love with _you_."

Something about hearing that from Ella's mouth made me feel pleased and flustered and hopelessly giddy.

"Do you think?" I asked dumbly, trying not to smile like a buffoon.

"I not only _think_ so, I _know_ so," Ella quipped, smiling a genuine, glowing smile. "And if your expression is any indication, I know _you_ know as well."

I bit my lip and shrugged. "I s'pose. I guess I'm just being silly or needy or _something_. Why else would I need constant affirmation of what I know to be true?"

"Because, perhaps, my son is being inconsiderate?" She laughs and shakes her head. "I would not be terribly surprised. He gets lost in himself sometimes, _especially_ when things…"

"Yes?" I could sense it coming: something significant, something life altering… SOME explanation.

But Ella just frowned at me.

"If I have learned anything in marrying Char… Well, _one_ of the _many_ things that I have learned through marrying Char is that a king's life is not one of simplicity. Certainly we live in luxury, but a good king—and my husband _is_ a very good king—worries constantly over what will become of his kingdom and his people. In his hands are the lives and well being of hundreds of thousands of people! Each decision he makes has enormous ramifications. I help as much as I can… I'd _like_ to think that we're partners in everything. But I know, when it comes down to it, he makes the final decision. It's a lot to bear. Sometimes, I think, it's too much to share. Too much to try to explain."

I wrinkled my nose. "So… I shouldn't try…?"

"_SHOULDN'T TRY_?!" Ella choked, suddenly laughing hysterically. I stared at her dumbly, ignorant of whatever it was that had her in stitches. After a moment spent catching her breath, she took a seat beside me and sighed sagaciously.

"Do I strike you as the sort who gives up?" The spirited queen questioned with an expectant look in her eyes.

"No: not at all. So I should… _pry_?" I groaned and threw my hands in the air. "This is ridiculous! I'm not good at prying! I'm not subtle! Certainly you must have _some_ sort of idea of what's wrong. Can't you just tell me?"

"I…" Ella studied me for a moment and, after sighing once again, let her shoulders slump. "King Amédée of Fryth… How do I even begin? There is an area of rich farmland in the southern corner of Kyrria; surely _you_ know of it from your lessons with Master Eldridge. That area--"

"—has been contested between Fryth and Kyrria for centuries," I finished for her, my heart suddenly dropping. "But we defeated Fryth in the 5 Years War ninety years ago! The dispute was settled; the territory is ours! We paid them 10 million KJ's for it, _despite_ the fact that their claims to it were feeble at best. How can King Amédée possibly-- The arrogant bastard!"

"My thoughts exactly," Ella replied belatedly, eyes worried. "But he claims that Kyrria has broken the peace treaty. Two Frythyan soldiers were killed on the border between our countries by a small band of Kyrrian soldiers, which is a breach of the 'complete neutrality' clause. Amédée believes this an act of war. Obviously, _they_ initiated it for the direct purpose of declaring war, but the king has enough to persuade his people that we're the 'evil' ones."

"So diplomatic attempts to settle the dispute will undoubtedly fail," I murmured, feeling close to tears. "There will be a war. And after the peace we've had so long!"

Ella put an arm around me consolingly. "Take heart, Rosalie. Fryth's economy is deteriorating! Why else would they need this region so desperately? Wars take money, and Kyrria has _plenty_ of that. And we have allies. Don't fret. Providence willing, the war will be brief and minimal lives will be lost."

"How can you be so optimistic? And why do you console me? Poor Char! Poor Jerrold! Poor _you_!" I shrieked frenziedly. "How have you managed to keep this so quiet? We're on the brink of war and the entire country is ignorant!"

I felt like an idiot. _Worse_ than an idiot. A _spoiled_ idiot! There I was, fretting over whether or not Jerrold loved me like a self-involved brat while Kyrria was in danger—actual danger! War! Poor Jerrold had to juggle my idiotic complains about my loutish uncle and the FATE OF AN ENTIRE COUNTRY. How could I be so childish? Jerrold needed me to shut up and help him, as he had always tried to do for me! I would. I would have given up my every worldly possession to feel as if I were of some help to him.

"What can I do?" I snapped before the court linguist/queen could answer my previous question. "I'll do anything. I'll become a spy! I'll fight! I'll become a general! Please. I have to do something. I'll die if I cannot."

Ella shook her head somberly, shivering in the increasing coldness of the night air. I had all but forgotten where we were in the midst of this mind-blowing revelation.

"I fear you can do none of those. For now, we must wait until Amédée declares war or pray that he can somehow be persuaded to reconsider. Elani—the silly goose—has proposed that she marry him," Ella told me wearily, her eyes dancing mischievously nonetheless. "Can you imagine? She's not yet fifteen! I don't doubt the sincerity of her offer, however ridiculous… I only wish you could have heard Jerrold, Drago, and Char's simultaneous sputtering, swearing, and scolding (respectively). All agreed that she would do nothing of the sort, not now or in ten million years. Elani, Mandy, and I—despite the grave subject matter—were laughing for hours at how silly they sounded."

I tried to smile, but found myself flabbergasted. "Elani is certainly something. How brave!"

I doubted very much if I would _ever_ think to offer myself as a token of piece.

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure she had not thought it through. Impetuous is more apt a term… or perhaps idealistic. Of course, she must have known that we would not let her. Still, she _is_ something."

I sighed, my voice wavering as I trembled stupidly. "Where is he? I've got to say _something_. I know that telling him things will be all right isn't at all productive or helpful, but—Perhaps being with someone who at least knows of it--"

"May help?" Ella finished, clearly doubtful that I could better the situation. "Jerrold is terribly distraught. It might worry him more to know that you're now worried as well."

"Why are you all so selfless? I could hardly give a damn about myself at a moment like this! I would do anything for him to feel better," I declared gallantly, determined that I would find him and do whatever necessary to coax a smile out of him. "Please. Is he here?"

"The menagerie. With the dragon," Ella replied weakly. In the light of the moon—which was now visible low on the horizon—her lovely jewel eyes appeared glossy.

Instinctively and impulsively, I threw my arms about her and buried my head into her shoulder.

"Thank you," I whispered.

* * *

The sad thing is that by the time I had reached the menagerie I had lost all my bravery and found myself unable to think of anything worthwhile to say. I was convinced that I was worthless for anything but complaining about my afflictions and myself, and that nothing I could think up would ever be anything near helpful.

But all my self-deprecating thoughts faded away upon seeing Jerrold looking dazed and haggard. I would have rushed to him that moment had Elani and Drago not been there.

"You boys," Elani huffed, leaning against the partition with an indignant scowl. "All you do is sulk. Why don't you enjoy peace while you can? Why don't you go amuse yourself with your little playthings, Drago? I'm certain they've convinced themselves—with the quarter of a brain they possess _altogether_—that you've quite abandoned them and that they're devastated. Of course they're not, because they don't know _you_ at all."

"They know all I want them to know," was her brother's cool reply. "And that's quite enough. Why don't you bother Jerrold? I'm sure his ladylove is quite overcome with anguish. Poor dear Rosalie, mistreated by the world, and now abandoned by her love…"

Jerrold, who had been studying the dragon pensively, snapped around to face his brother with a fiery expression. "Don't talk about her like that, Drago, or I'll make you wish you hadn't."

I couldn't help but scoff, though not loudly enough to be detected. Drago had oftentimes said worse about me, and what he _had_ said was hardly offensive at all. Jerrold was clearly on edge.

Elani noticed too, and (in true Elani fashion) proceeded to try and make a joke of it.

"I suppose I ought to let the two of you bash each other's brains out, because at least then you'll be far pleasanter to be around," she announced archly. "Come on. You're both miserable, and I can hardly stand it. If you don't stop soon I'll send Amédée a letter offering-"

"_Stop_ with the stupid threats of marrying yourself off," Drago snapped, tossing a stone quite callously at the dragon with a detached smile. "It'd be a blessing to be rid of you."

"It wouldn't. You'd be crushed, Drago," Jerrold ridiculed derisively. "Elani—whether or not you care to admit it—is your best friend in the world. She may not know it, but _you_ do, and so do I."

"Our idiot sister? I think not!" Drago spat, marching up to Jerrold and looking poised to fight.

"I'm not an idiot!" Elani interjected with a pout on her sweet, childish features. "I'm smarter than either of _you_ boors!"

Her brothers ignored her.

Jerrold did his best to remain cool, though it was obvious that he was itching to fight just as much as Drago. I felt it was my duty to Ella and Elani to prevent their family from fracturing further because of the idiocy of 'boys', so I feigned ignorance and walked spiritedly towards them.

"Is something the matter?" I asked brightly, trying my best to make an expression of surprise at the scene before me.

Elani's face instantly lit up. "Rosalie! Thank goodness you're here. Jerrold and Drago were just about to--"

Jerrold flushed and cleared his throat coarsely. "Elani, _please_. I—I—Hello, Rosalie."

"Jerrold," I replied, nodding towards him amicably as my stomach fluttered. I waited a moment for him to say something back, certain that I did not have the capacity to be the first to speak. He did not say anything, and his eyes wandered towards the dragon almost longingly. As if he had no wish to see me at all. My heart dropped.

"You're both disgusting," Drago muttered with a roll of his gray eyes. "I think I ought to go before I get ill."

"Aww. You're terrible, Drago! They're so cute," Elani sighed, eyes glazing over dreamily. She looked at me with a smile of approval. "_I_ think it's wonderful. It's so lovely."

"That's quite enough, Elani; thank you," Jerrold ordered grimly. "Perhaps Mandy needs you to—It doesn't matter. Go on."

Elani was reluctant. "But I haven't told Calcifer his bedtime story! I always do!"

"He's a dragon. From the depreciatory look in his eyes, I doubt your stupid stories means anything at all to him," he replied caustically, looking darkly to the ground. "Now go!"

Dumbfounded for a moment and heartbroken the next, a very flushed and teary-eyed Elani screamed "You're terrible, Jerrold! I _hate_ you!" and promptly tore off. I watched her for a moment, horrified, and glared at an unsympathetic Jerrold.

"That was cruel of you to say to her," I admonished, quite disgusted with his Drago-like behavior. "Elani is just a girl."

Jerrold did not look at me. "She needs to grow up then. If she's going to run off crying the moment anyone says anything the least bit hurtful to her, she's not going to hold up very well in society. Life is hard. Someone has to teach her."

"I hardly think that was your intent in saying that. I think you were just trying to be mean. Why? Does it make you feel better? Does making your little sister cry really make any of this easier?" I asked throatily and passionately. "This isn't you. _You_ could find a better way to cope with your concern than this-this—_imposter_ Jerrold ever could."

Jerrold scoffed and leaned casually against the railing. "To what are you referri—Oh. Of course. Mother told you. Of course she did. And after I expressly asked her--"

"To keep me in the dark? This is ridiculous! Supposedly you love me--"

"Supposedly?_"_

"Well, what am I supposed to think? I see so little of you… One day you're professing your love, and the next—only a short time later—you're acting like a complete lout! If you loved me as 'impossibly' as you told me, you would _want_ to tell me this sort of thing," I retorted anxiously. "I tell you nearly everything! Why won't you do the same for me?"

"Because I don't want to talk about it! I don't want this horrible disaster to pollute my one happiness!" He bellowed, causing me to jump back quite a bit in shock. "I don't want to think about Amédée and Fryth and war and death, alright? I don't want to think about how many of my subjects will die because of Amédée's selfishness. I don't want to think about how we shall raise an army or… Damn it all! In short, I hate thinking about it. I don't want to talk about it with you. I don't want to tell you how I'm feeling, because I imagine it's quite apparent that this scares the hell out of me and makes me furious and vengeful. All of which are rather unattractive attributes, don't you agree?"

I could only stare blankly at him. Jerrold, heedless of my reaction or me, pressed on.

"You'll be offended, I'm sure, because you think I'm protecting you. How male of me, right? How damned paternalistic and chauvinistic men are. It'll please you to know, then, that it had not occurred to me once that I was protecting _you_ as much as I was protecting _me_. That's the truth of it. I wanted, stupidly, to just be able to pretend that things hadn't changed. That you and I could just _be_—that we could marry and live happily ever after with no obstruction to our joy. But obviously Mother has ruined that, so now you can be party to my misery. What good fortune you have!"

I don't know what prevented me from crying. His tirade was quite insensitive, and I'm sure under any other circumstances I would have burst into tears, called him several mean names in the heat of the moment, and ran out. But I just stood there and mustered my strength, because that's what you must do when you love someone. That's what they said in books, at least. You have to _try_.

It was moments like that that made me want to avoid the whole business of love in the first place.

"I wanted the same of you, Jerrold," I started shakily. "An escape, right? For me, an escape from my uncle. For you, Kyrria's troubles. But—I think we just need to help each other. We can't hide in our own silly world and forget the rest. You can draw strength from me, just as I have from you. If we were to—I mean--"

I blushed, but forced myself forward. "What would you do if we married, Jerrold? Would you lock me in a tower so that I would never learn of anything awful that was going on? I can promise you that I would be miserable and that I would make you miserable in retaliation."

He stared at me a moment blankly, before a glorious, wonderful, marvelous smirk appeared on his face. "I imagine that would be a rather unpleasant arrangement for us both."

_That's Jerrold. My Jerrold._

I could not rejoice in winning him over yet, because he was soon sulking again.

"It's not fixed that easily, Rosalie. One laugh won't make it better," he muttered, ruffling his light brown hair despairingly.

"So I suppose it's better not to laugh at all, then?" I countered, nearing him hesitantly. Perhaps if I could only give his hand a reassuring squeeze, he might relent just a bit…

"I don't know. One moment of reprieve can't salvage the rest, can it?" Jerrold mumbled morosely, edging away from me. "There's not much of a point. I cannot help being in ill spirits about it. So many sleepless nights hardly make me want to spend my days laughing."

"Just how many have you had?" I demanded impertinently. "How many sleepless nights? You must have known about this for some time. Perhaps you've gotten worse news as time progressed, but it _has_ been a while, hasn't it? This is why you were so distracted before you told me you loved me."

"Are you asking me a question or attempting to state facts?" he replied sardonically, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't matter. Yes. I did. I thought at that point that it was avoidable, and that Kyrria could not be touched. Imagine that."

There are few words to describe the degree of frustration that I felt. I knew that he had a much worse lot than I did and that I was probably being selfish (_again)_, but _really._ It seemed that he was determined not to be cheered at all. I could think of nothing else to do that might help him any. I had tried earnest pleas and attempted silly humor. What else _is_ there?

"Do you want me to go?" I asked tenuously. "I want to help, but I don't know… We can just sit. We don't have to talk about anything. Or--"

"Rosalie…"

I wished I hadn't said that. I could not bear hearing him say that I was of no use. Desperately, I searched my mind for any unsubstantial nonsense to speak of for the sole purpose of delaying those harsh words that I _knew_ were coming.

"Did you hear? I don't know if I'm allowed to say anything, but I know I can trust your silence on the subject. Devlin proposed to Marla," I gabbed stupidly, sounding tremendously like one of Drago's playthings. But I could not risk letting him speak.

"It's terrible, isn't it? She doesn't love him in the least, and though I don't know his feelings for her, I think it's safe to assume that-"

"Rosalie." His eyes were earnest, beseeching. "Please."

My cheeks were undoubtedly a deep shade of crimson as I laughed stupidly in response. "It's not Amédée, is it? It's something else. I can think of dozens of things to talk about besides Fryth. For example, did you know that objects of different masses fall at the same rate? Fascinating, isn't it?"

He continued studying me with those disconcerting emerald eyes.

In a last ditch attempt to prolong the inevitable-- my voice sounding sad and flimsy-- I mumbled, "The weather's been nice, hasn't it?"

His reply took me quite by surprise. Out of nowhere, Jerrold leaned forward and kissed me—quite hard—on my mouth. I stood there for a moment numbly, and before I could even think to react he had recoiled with a shamed look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

"I think you kissed me," I replied, touching my lips nervously. "That was odd."

Jerrold stared at me blankly. "Odd?"

"Yes. A little. You might have told me! I was so surprised that it happened that I could hardly--"

He kissed me. _Again_. For the split second before his lips touched mine, I had half a mind to inform him that kissing me every two seconds to shut me up was not going to be tolerated. But that was soon enough forgotten. This time was different than the last; _better_ than the last. It was soft and pleasant, and every inch of me tingled effervescently before he pulled away. It was peculiar still, but in an inexplicably _nice _way.

"I hope that was better than 'odd'," he muttered crossly.

"Well it _was_ before you spoiled it by acting like a child," I retorted, standing akimbo. I tried to ignore the flushing of my face and did my best to look offended. "You know, you really shouldn't just kiss people whenever you feel inclined."

"Of course. You've got a reputation to uphold. What would your innumerable other suitors think if they knew that I'd kissed you for a whole five seconds?" Jerrold replied genially.

"Is five seconds very pathetic?" I asked lightheartedly. "How many girls _have_ you kissed, Jerrold?"

He waved off my question (wisely) and grew solemn. "I apologize. I couldn't help myself."

I rolled my eyes and allowed the sarcasm drip uninhibited from my voice. "Of course. You were captivated by how my eyes shimmered in the moonlight. Quite like sapphires, or the depths of the cerulean sea. Those are rather hackneyed, though. You can do better, I think. Anyways, there was simply no stopping it. I quite understand."

"I knew you would," he replied with a smile. "I, a mere mortal, am nothing to you charms."

I was suddenly more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life. All of a sudden the reality set in that we—Jerrold and I—were not just friends, or silly children professing childish sentiments of attachment. We were adults, dealing with awful things that many adults would never in their lives face.

And there was the getting kissed thing. That was quite momentous by girlish standards, but scarcely as significant as the hope—the _fact_ that Jerrold and I could survive this. It _was_ fact. It had to be.

Emboldened by my hopefulness and resolve, I took his hand in mine. "Fryth doesn't stand a chance. Amédée doesn't scare _me_. We'll be fine. And I'll always be here. Edward can go to hell. Amédée can go to hell! This is probably the most romantically nonsensical idiocy that will ever escape my mouth, but for your sake I'll say it. Yes: it will severely injure my pride to know that I've joined the ranks of the idealistically stupid romantic heroines, but I'll do it! If it makes you laugh, all the better! As long as we're together--"

"We're going to need help, though," Jerrold interrupted imploringly, looking to his feet with a labored sigh. "Our army—yes, we're richer, but he's got more men. And the army of Fryth is notoriously vicious, and our men are notoriously _untrained_. We'll need Ayortha's help. Men, generals, supplies even…"

"I don't see the problem. We're allies, aren't we?" I replied naively, wrinkling my nose. I touched a hand to his face and sought out his worried eyes. "Settle down. It's not as if they invade tomorrow, is it? You don't have to agonize every moment of every day! You didn't even let me finish being silly and romantic. Being silly is not far out of the ordinary for me, but being romantic is, and being _both_ at the same time is even _MORE SO_."

"But I don't want you to—to get too attached," Jerrold mumbled brusquely. "I don't want to see you hurt. I can't."

I pursed my lips and ignored the painful pang in my chest. "Well, Highness, I'm afraid you're far too late to start worrying about _that_. You probably should have mentioned that before my birthday, or before that dusky night, or before you decided to kiss me. You probably should have detached yourself from me ten years ago—_twelve_ years ago—if you were worried about me getting 'attached'. Because I'm afraid that 'irrevocably cemented' is more apt a phrase than 'attached' is."

"Mother says I should think on the bright side," Jerrold rejoined with a shrug, unresponsive to my heartfelt declaration. "I think that's foolish. If you're guarded—not necessarily pessimistic, but _guarded_—you've less of a chance of getting disappointed. I've decided that if I accept the possibility of the worst case scenario, I can do my best to avoid its happening."

I furrowed my brows and shivered involuntarily, more than a little bewildered by his behavior. "So… what does that mean, exactly? You're willing to accept the idea of Kyrria _losing_?!"

He regarded me impassively for a moment. "No. Not that. Never that. Kyrria is first. Kyrria will always come first. Before anyone: you, or me, or even my family. If it ever comes to it, Elani _will_ marry. I won't protest."

"And if she changed her mind, you'd _make_ her?" I whispered gutturally. "You'd ruin her happiness—her chance of _ever_ being happy—for your country?"

Perhaps that was the sign of a remarkable ruler. It was logical, of course, but so _cold_! So jaded and terrible.

"I'd sooner ruin my own," Jerrold continued, heaving another profound sigh. "Because I love her, and I want to protect her. But I'm not worried for her yet. I worry for you. We've allowed our happiness to depend on one another to such a great extent that if I were to make some grand sacrifice for Kyrria _your_ happiness might be ruined, as well."

"It's a risk one must take for love," I stated nobly, nodding my head resolutely. "A risk I'm willing to take."

"An inevitability, more like. It _is_ an inevitability," he remarked cynically.

I allowed the hurt to show for a moment—I could not help it—but tried to compose myself as best I could. I think I succeeded in putting off the tears for a moment before the salty streams spilled over unabatedly. That I delayed them _that_ long impressed me immensely.

I cried. I felt hollow, drained, and miserable; worse, I think, than I felt when Mother died. It did not even strike me to feel guilty for that, so forlorn was I. Though my mind pleaded desperately for me to run home to hide the extent of my heartache, my quivering legs would not comply. I stood frozen there, just looking through bleary eyes at the dusty ground and his stationary feet.

"Stop," Jerrold ordered tenderly, his voice noticeably pained. "Please stop. For the love of Kyrria, _STOP_."

I snorted bitterly and wiped at my runny nose with my sleeve.

"Be-because i-it's so ea-easy, right?" I bawled, my words hardly intelligible as the sobs wracked my frame. "Be-ecause it's so-o-o typical tha-aat…"

He hugged me to him then, fiercely, and would not let me go for all my pitiful struggling. I gave up. He smelled like spring—like grass and rain—and I did not _want_ him to let go. I wondered (stupidly; as if such a thing mattered at all) how he managed to smell so wonderful. I wanted to pretend that he was the way he had always been; that he was holding me because he loved me dearly and not because he simply wanted me to stop so that he wouldn't feel bad.

"Shhh. It's alright," Jerrold cooed into my ear, as if I were some inconsolable infant.

I said nothing and stood rigid, hoping that after a moment or two he would notice that my tears had abated (for the time being) and that I no longer wanted to be around him. But he did not let me go. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, and whispered _'It's alright, it's alright_' into my ear over and over.

"Why are you--?" I choked out. "What are you--"

"I don't know. I wish I knew. I want to—I don't… But it's so difficult. Harder than I ever thought."

"Why? Why is it so hard? What does all this have to do with you and me?" I beseeched, hugging him back and burying my face into the front of his shirt. "Let's pretend. I'll do it. I'll never mention it again, and it can be like you said. I'll do it. I don't care how ridiculous it is, I _will_."

"It was dumb of me to think such a thing would ever work," Jerrold replied softly. "I just could not handle it all. But you're braver than I am-"

"I'm not!" I protested vehemently, tearing myself from his arms. "I'm not! Why does everyone think I am?"

"A charade can't last forever, Rosalie," Jerrold said quietly, a crestfallen expression on his handsome face. "You know that."

"I don't understand this! I _do _understand that you're upset, and that's perfectly justifiable. I just don't know why you're pushing _me_ away. It's not fair! This isn't _my _fault, and I'm trying very hard to be good about it all. It's hard not to take all those disparaging remarks to heart, you know. I might be an independent damsel, but I'm sensitive—painfully so—and I can't stand the way you're just… playing with me!" I seethed, growing red-faced and furious. "You treat Elani with disrespect, then you treat _me_ with disrespect, then you laugh with me and give me hope, then you shatter it, then you KISS me—_TWICE_, and then you retreat into your stupid emotional shell once more! And for what? What the hell am I supposed to do? Do you love me or not? Should I go home and never bother you again, or--"

"I can't tell you that it's going to be okay, Rosalie. I can't pretend that you're going to beat Edward, or that Kyrria will beat Fryth, or that we'll live happily ever after just because it's the _nice_ thing to happen. I would _love_ to; I really would. I would love to think that you and I will marry and have ten bookish children, but--"

"Ten?" I interrupted unthinkingly, crossing my arms over my chest. "That's a tad overboard, don't you think?"

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck in concession. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I never pretended to be Prince Charming. I'm not perfect, and I can only handle so much on my plate. I'm sorry if I took it out on you. I can't decide, from one moment to the next, whether I want you to love or hate me. I'm beginning to think the latter will be easier for both of us."

"Why would I ever hate you?" I inquired candidly. "I couldn't. I don't think I'm capable of it."

"I—Princes are not allowed to marry whomever they want. What does it matter? I'm—I must go. I'm tired. You must be as well. Please go home."

I stared at him blankly. His words… Weren't they Calantha's? Close, at least. Painfully similar. All I could do was convince myself that it was a perverse coincidence; Fate attempting to ruin me once again. Of course it was. He was in a foul mood, and he simply couldn't cope with coping at that moment. He did not mean anything by it.

_Please. If there is any justice in this world, let this be a coincidence. Let him be mean. Let him be terrible. I don't care. Just don't let him be serious._

"Jerrold?" I begged pathetically. "Can we talk? Please. What did you mean by that? Please tell me."

"Go home," he repeated tersely, turning to walk away from me with stiff posture.

I wasn't about to run after him. I'd attempted to make a fool of myself for love, and my flat-out failure hardly encouraged another go at it. I stood there torpidly, too confused and devastated to even cry.

"Someone told me I was lucky today," I informed the night air and a slumbering Calcifer blankly. " 'You're lucky to have a prince,' she said. Imagine that. Lucky…"

* * *

**A/N 2: **Sorry for the crappiness of this chapter. And yes, Jerrold was a jerk and really indecisive and stupid. You can hate him if you like, but it's not all his fault. We'll see Edward next chapter, and hopefully I'll think of something really mean of him to do ;). For some reason everyone loves when he's mean.

Sorry if you don't like it or it all happened too soon. Please don't be too mean. I worked (kinda, sorta) hard to get this out today.


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